Mercury rising, p.19
Mercury Rising, page 19
However, it was one line that stopped him in his tracks. It had the appearance of some type of diplomatic cable, even though Simpson knew it had to be something else:
DATA INTERCEPTED: OPERATION NIGHT WATCHMEN - Presidential Detail Compromised - Iranian Asset Codename: Linebacker - US Assets in Tehran: Active - False flag: confirmed - Timeline accelerated - Need extraction coordinates
The line also included a date, which made his blood run cold. The supposed operation was scheduled to take place in three days. And in three days, Iranian President Farhad Hassan was scheduled to address the country with a major announcement.
Simpson stared at the corrupted data as it continued to scroll past, then at the approaching shoreline.
Three days to prevent a war—and he was the only one who knew when and where it would start.
CHAPTER 25
SEATTLE, WASHINGTON
The musky warehouse seemed like a tomb at 4 a.m., quiet yet strangely reverent. The flaking paint on the walls and the stark condition of the facility added to the eeriness of the place. Barrett’s footsteps echoed off the concrete walls as he made final preparations for what might be the most important interrogation of his career.
Del Rio remained unconscious on the gurney, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm.
“Place gives me the creeps,” Stone muttered, testing the two-way mirror’s audio feed.
“Good,” Barrett said, adjusting his fake mustache in a shard of broken mirror. “Fear loosens tongues.”
Watts emerged from the adjacent room, equipment bag in hand. “Audio’s working. We’ll hear everything.”
Barrett nodded and then studied Del Rio’s medical chart one final time. Thallium poisoning. Either the Colonel was cleaning house, or Del Rio had stumbled onto something worth killing for. In ten minutes, Barrett would find out which.
Barrett adjusted the drip on Del Rio’s IV and waited for him to awaken. Barrett sat in the corner and waited. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, the high-pitched hum the only noise in the room. Barrett put on another disguise marked by thick glasses, a mustache, and a tuft of salt-and-pepper hair. He added some girth beneath his shirt, giving him the appearance of a belly hanging over his belt.
After a few minutes, Del Rio groggily opened his eyes, squinting as he tried to register his new environment.
“Where—what’s going on?” he asked.
“That’s not important, Jack,” Barrett said.
“Wyatt?” Del Rio asked, drawing back and then glancing at his bindings. “My name’s Jack. And why the hell am I strapped to this bed?”
“It’s for your safety,” Barrett said. “Now, Wyatt—”
“Stop calling me that. The name’s Jack. Jack Roberts.”
“Listen, Wyatt. You can make this as easy or as difficult as possible. And trust me when I say this, you don’t want me to use all the tools at my disposal to make this difficult.”
Del Rio fought against his restraints, the bed shaking as he growled. “Get me outta here right now.”
“I’d love to do that for you,” Barrett said. “But first we have a few things to discuss, starting with everything you know about the Echo Syndicate.”
Del Rio narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know anything about what you’re talking about. Now get me back to the hospital.”
Barrett picked up a folder, pretending to read it—and hoped he wasn’t wrong about the identity of the man. “Says here that you work for a secret government organization—at least, that’s who’s paying your medical bills. So, let’s quit pretending you’re someone else. The sooner you be honest with me, the sooner I can get you back to proper medical care.”
“Who the hell are you guys?”
“I asked you first,” Barrett said with a shrug. “Now, I can see you want to be difficult about this, so I guess I’m going to need to use some of my tools.”
He walked over to a table and picked up a dental bur, a high-pitched whine emanating from the device as he goosed the trigger and turned back toward Del Rio.
“What’s it gonna be, Jack? The drill or the truth?”
Though Del Rio’s eyes widened, he said nothing.
“Okay, have it your way,” Barrett said.
Barrett held down the trigger and drew closer to Del Rio, who tightened his lips while writhing from side to side. Barrett grabbed a fistful of the man’s hair and held his head in place while slowly easing the bur toward his closed mouth.
“I only want to drill out your teeth, not the side of your mouth,” Barrett said. “But I will if I have to.”
Del Rio’s eyes locked on the spinning bur, but his jaw remained clenched. Even as the tool touched his lip, he said nothing.
Barrett pulled back. “Tough guy, huh? Let’s try something else.”
He walked to the table and picked up Del Rio’s medical chart, flipping through it slowly. “Thallium poisoning. Nasty stuff. You know what’s interesting about thallium? The effects are cumulative. Even after treatment, you’re still vulnerable to kidney failure, nerve damage. It’s a lengthy list.” He looked up and arched his eyebrows before adding, “Heart arrhythmia.”
Barrett produced a syringe filled with clear liquid.
“Now, this is potassium chloride. Mimics a heart attack perfectly. Given your recent poisoning, no one would question it.”
Del Rio’s breathing quickened slightly, but he remained silent. “Or,” Barrett continued, “we could discuss why someone tried to poison an Echo operative who was supposedly loyal to the cause.”
For the first time, Del Rio’s composure cracked. His eyes flicked to Barrett’s face.
“That got your attention,” Barrett said. “See, I don’t think you’re the enemy here, Jack. I think someone wanted you out of the way. The question is why.”
Del Rio stared at the ceiling for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “Because I found out what he’s really planning.”
“The Colonel?”
A bitter laugh escaped Del Rio’s lips. “You have no idea what you’ve stumbled into, do you? This isn’t about some smuggling operation or even killing judges. This is about reshaping the entire geopolitical landscape.”
Barrett set down the syringe but remained standing. “I’m listening.”
“The bastard tried to kill me because I discovered his timeline moved up.”
“What timeline?”
“His false flag timeline for Iran,” Del Rio said. “It isn’t months away—it’s days away.”
“And the target?”
Del Rio shook his head. “That’s still a mystery to me at this point, just like the Colonel’s identity.”
“You don’t know who he is?”
“No, but I know what he is. And the man’s a monster, hell-bent on igniting a war with his little false flag operation.”
Barrett closed his eyes and rubbed his face, pondering what Del Rio had just said. He finally opened his eyes, scowling. “Hell bent on igniting a war? Please expound more.”
Del Rio took a deep breath, looked to the ceiling, and closed his eyes. “Just so you know, what I’m about to tell you isn’t something I condone. It just … is.”
“Let’s just hear it.”
Del Rio shifted in his bed, pushing up as much as he could with the bindings restraining him.
“I figured out who you are,” Del Rio said. “So, you can cut the act. You’re Kelvin King, aren’t you? The operative sent in my place to protect Judge Morrison.”
Barrett nodded, content to continue with the alias he’d been using.
“The Colonel never planned to use me in his plot to attack Judge Morrison. From what I can tell, the plan all along was for the Colonel to use you as a scapegoat in order to get what he really wanted.”
“And what was that?”
“Access to the judges.”
“What for?”
“I’m not sure what the plan is for them, but I do know what he’s really after,” Del Rio said. “And that’s control.”
“Control? Of the judges?”
Del Rio shrugged. “Judges, senators, the president—anyone he can exert any pressure on to do what he ultimately wants to do.”
“Which is to start a war?”
Del Rio nodded. “He’s been moving other operatives to Iran, an operation that’s been several years in the making, though I’m admittedly short on specific details.”
“So he starts a war,” Barrett said. “Then what? What’s the Colonel’s end game?”
“I’m not sure at this point,” Del Rio said. “All I know is that Iran has secretly been developing long-range nuclear capability. And don’t you know they’re just looking for a reason to test it on the U.S.”
“Shit,” Barrett said. “This is worse than I thought.”
“I know,” Del Rio said. “I was trying to stop him … from the inside. But look where that got me. Poisoned.”
“Why not just kill you?” Barrett asked.
“My guess is that he wants to do the same thing to me as he did to you, using me as a scapegoat for some purpose. Don’t underestimate the Colonel. He’s smart and calculating. And if he’s not stopped, a global war will erupt once his false flag operation gets underway.”
“What else do you know?”
Del Rio shook his head. “Not much, but the real question is this: What would make Iran launch an attack on the U.S.?”
Barrett sighed. “A presidential assassination.”
“We’re thinking alike,” Del Rio said. “And if you are like me, you know you have to stop it.”
“That’s quite a burden to put on someone.”
“Something tells me that if anyone is capable of doing it, it’s you.”
Barrett removed a syringe from his pocket and loomed over to Del Rio.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Sorry,” Barrett said. “It’s for your own good. But know that I appreciate the intel.”
He slipped the needle into Del Rio’s neck and waited until he lost consciousness before signaling for Watts and Stone to join him in the room.
Barrett looked at Del Rio’s unconscious body. The man had risked everything to warn them about the false flag operation, and now they had less than days to prevent a war.
“We can’t take him back to the hospital,” Stone said. “But we can’t babysit him either. Not with what’s coming.”
Barrett’s encrypted phone buzzed. A message from Simpson:
Package retrieved. Encrypted message to follow. Time sensitive. - JS
Barrett showed the screen to his teammates. “Simpson’s found something. And judging by the urgency, it’s connected to what Del Rio just told us.”
Watts checked her watch. “If there’s really a false flag operation in Iran targeting the president…”
“Then we’re the only ones who can stop it,” Barrett finished. “But first we need to get Del Rio somewhere safe.”
Barrett looked at the coordinates Simpson had sent. They pointed to a location in Virginia, not far from Washington.
“Stoney, book us four flights to D.C.,” Barrett said. “I know where we can hide Del Rio.”
“And then?” Stone asked.
Barrett grabbed his go bag. “We’re going to take this fight to the Colonel.”
CHAPTER 26
WASHINGTON, D.C.
The SUV zipped along the empty streets just minutes before midnight struck, street lamps pulsing through the windows as Stone navigated the vehicle. Barrett couldn’t remember what day it was, and for a fleeting moment, he glanced at Del Rio asleep in the adjacent seat and envied him. His body was coursing with poison, doing its best to expunge it. But he looked so peaceful, oblivious to the danger looming. But Barrett was all too aware, too wide awake. He couldn’t forget what he knew, what he saw, what he needed to do.
Barrett bristled at the fact that there was a madman operating with far more power than any one man should have. The Colonel had managed to gain power by any means necessary—blackmailing, cajoling, brokering. And now he stood at the precipice of igniting a war that could reshape the geopolitics of the world, if not raze them altogether.
Unless Barrett and his team could stop him.
Barrett considered how he’d arrived at this point, the mere chance of it all. A failed assassination attempt had reset the course of his own life. He considered that he could’ve been asleep in his own bed, preparing to go fishing in the morning, completely unaware of the potential earth-shaking events that were just days away. But he wasn’t. He was tired, yet focused—determined to do everything he could to stop the Colonel and turn the man’s dream into a nightmare.
After a few minutes, Watt’s cell buzzed with a text. The light from her phone illuminated her face, which fell almost instantly.
“What is it?” Barrett asked. “Is it Lynch?”
She nodded solemnly and then handed her phone to Barrett so he could read the screen for himself. It was a note from Watts’ doctor friend. Lynch had lost too much blood, ultimately spelling his demise.
“Shit,” Barrett said as he returned the phone to her.
Watts said nothing, leaving Barrett to ruminate on the news. While he wasn’t sure if it had been their fault, he couldn’t help but think that it was.
“If we hadn’t gone to see him, maybe the Colonel’s operatives would’ve never found him,” Barrett said before he balled up his fist and slammed it on his seat.
“You don’t know that,” Watts said. “You can’t blame yourself.”
“Of course I can,” Barrett said. “For all we know, the Colonel’s been using us to tie up loose ends.”
“Or it’s just been a coincidence,” Stone said, craning his neck to look at Barrett through the rearview mirror. “Unfortunately, this is the nature of what we do. Sometimes, people die.”
“Of course they do,” Barrett said, his tone curt. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“None of us do,” Watts said. “But we just have to keep moving forward, keep doing whatever we can to stop the evil.”
Jaw clenched, Barrett stared out the window. He’d been dragged back into this world whether he liked it or not. And at the moment, he hated it. He couldn’t help but feel responsible for Lynch’s death. The man had stayed hidden for years with the express purpose of protecting his family. And now he was dead. Barrett struggled to accept that he wasn’t responsible for orphaning little Amelia, even if her father had done it himself years ago.
“We’ll settle the score—and then some,” Stone said. “Don’t worry.”
“I’m sure we will,” Barrett said. “But I’d rather there weren’t any scores to settle.”
“You and me both, brother,” Stone said.
Stone slowed, easing into a parking spot in a back alley behind the CIA safe house that Simpson had given them access to. Once he cut the engine, they all climbed out and helped carry Del Rio inside. They worked together to get him into one of the spare bedrooms, laying him on the bed.
Watts put her hand to Del Rio’s forehead and then checked his pulse. “We really need to get him some medical care. Do you know anyone who can help, someone you trust?”
“I know a few doctors at Walter Reed Hospital,” Barrett said. “I’ll have to call them in the morning and feel them out.”
The trio left Del Rio to get some rest and returned to the living room—and they weren’t alone.
“Well, hello, Kelvin,” said a woman from the corner.
Barrett knew the voice and swallowed hard as he spun to look in the direction of her voice. “Grace, what—what are you doing here?”
Grace Gordon leaned forward in a recliner, her hands resting on her knees, her eyes narrowed. Barrett didn’t need a psychology degree to tell she wasn’t happy.
“How long have you known me?” she asked.
“I don’t know, Grace. A decade or so. How did you track me down?”
“Private investigator,” she said. “He has some friends in high places and was able to track your location from your burner phone. Now, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”
“Grace, this is Jasmine Watts and Grant Stone. Guys, this is Grace Gordon.”
Grace chewed on her lip a moment before responding. “I think you owe me some answers, starting with why you’ve been lying to me all this time.”
“Lying to you? About what?” Barrett said. He couldn’t remember all the lies he’d told her and needed clarification.
“You name it, Blake,” she said.
“I’m sorry, Grace, but that’s the nature of what I do. I can’t be up front with you about everything. But you can rest assured that if I’m not totally honest with you, it’s for your own good.”
“Really? Is that even true?”
Barrett glanced at Stone and then Watts before turning his gaze back to Grace. “Look, I can explain more later, but I need to know who helped you find this place and who knows you’re here.”
“Why? Are you worried someone might be—what do you secret government guys call it?—unmasked?”
“I’m worried because you might be in danger, not to mention endangering all of us,” Barrett said. “The truth is we’re being hunted by a very powerful person, and the last thing I want is for you to be dragged into this.”
“And what about Slade?” she asked as she stood. “Is he involved in this—whatever this is?”
As Barrett was considering his response, the sound of breaking glass and the sickening sound of a canister clinking off the floor arrested his attention. He grabbed Grace and dove with her behind the couch while Watts and Stone took cover in the kitchen. The flashbang exploded, filling the room with bright light and smoke.
Seconds later, Barrett heard a battering ram destroy the lock on the door as agents poured into the room.
“Stay down,” Barrett said in a low whisper to Grace.
