Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
“We questioned that, Rattler,” I whispered. “Do you remember?”
“Yeah. We both thought it odd, but I wasn’t worried. I knew we could take them.”
“We asked for instructions but were told to proceed anyway,” Rattler told her. “It wasn’t until we saw the kids running toward the property line we realized there were innocents on the ground.”
“There were only three kids, but you had no way of knowing there weren’t any inside. I knew it would make things difficult, but what I didn’t know was how many weapons they had hidden away in the storm cellar, or what kind. I had no fucking idea! I damn sure didn’t know about the armor-piercing rounds or the mortars.” She shivered. “If I’d been more experienced, or had more time to have studied the place, I’m sure I’d have found their cache. Instead, the timetable got moved up, and there we were.”
“You said they were trying to kill someone. Who did they target?”
“Right. One of the guys funding that particular group is the son of an exceedingly wealthy and powerful businessman in the area. He’s local, but make no mistake, the man is a silent world powerhouse. As you probably figured out, the place was pretty much completely off the grid. I had to get creative in my digging. Thankfully, I had a few friends in place who I trusted to keep me being alive a secret. We did some work and it looked like the father wanted the son killed. While he is definitely rich enough to kill someone and get away with it, his son being killed might raise a few eyebrows. But, if they could spin it so that it looked like his son had been kidnapped and killed by a bunch of trigger-happy militants bent on blowing up buildings and killing members of law enforcement, he could go on sitting quietly in the shadows. This guy had to have gone to someone high up in the CIA and presented it to set up a smoke screen for future operations inside the US. Kind of like a dress rehearsal in information control in domestic operations.”
“Christ, this sounds like something out of a fuckin’ movie.” Rattler scrubbed a hand over his face in agitation.
“You worked for the fucking CIA too,” Joilyn snapped. “Tell me this doesn’t sound like something they’d do.” When Rattler gave her a look, she continued. “I don’t have all the answers, guys. But I do know that the son was trouble. Like the psychotic kind of trouble. And the father’d had all he was gonna take. When the son started plotting to blow up buildings and shoot up parks and courthouses, his father snapped. Rather than have his family name associated with something like the Oklahoma City Bombing, he chose to take the chance it would slip to the press his son was killed in that raid. If the press got wind of his son being killed, the official press release was supposed to play it as his son had been part of a CIA raid. So, of course the press did find out. That was the whole point of the mission underneath the mission only a very few people knew about. The report leaked did not say the man was acting with the CIA or against it. Only that he was among the several agents killed during the raid.”
My eyes widened. “Felix Newton. He was the son.”
“Isn’t his dad a US senator or something?” asked Rattler.
Joilyn winced. “Yeah. I’m so going to jail for treason or some shit. ‘Cause, you know, that’s all classified.”
“You’re not going to jail,” Rattler said firmly. “You’ll come back with us. It’s why the club exists.”
“You mean Grim Road? Yeah, Cheetah said I’d probably be offered the chance to go back with you. She said if I wanted to stay hidden, that’s where I needed to go.”
“She’s right.” I thought I should probably reach out to Joilyn, to reassure her she’d have a home with us if she wanted it, but found myself reluctant to take her hand. Instead, I smiled. “The agency knows you’re alive because they called ExFil to get you out. Right?”
“That’s something that’s up for debate.” Joilyn eyed me carefully, as if she sensed my reluctance to have physical connection with her. “If my handler didn’t tell his superiors, he might have called ExFil himself outside agency channels. It’s even possible ExFil thinks they’re doing this for the agency when it’s really unsanctioned.”
“Who’s your handler?”
“I only know him by his road name.”
“Hello, Joilyn.” Scout approached us, reaching out his hand. “I’m Scout.”
Her lips parted on a gasp. “Scout? My handler?”
“Yep. That’s me. So, to answer your question, no. The CIA doesn’t know you’re still alive. I’m sorry it took me so long to arrange a rescue.”
“Well, it did take me months to contact you. I wasn’t sure who I could trust.”