places with you if I could. I should be the one in the ground. Freddy smiled, his face blurring in Reece’s memory, morphing into another face. This one was hazy, and Reece couldn’t quite make it out. But the blur had a name; Nizar Kattan, the Syrian sniper who had pressed the trigger that took Freddy as he rendered aid to a wounded Secret Service agent on a rooftop half a world away. Reece had anonymously set up a trust to take care of Freddy’s special needs child. The money he’d used had been a reward from the British Crown for taking out the terrorist some had come to call Europe’s Osama bin Laden.
Reece knew that Freddy’s was one of the names not written next to his star; classified, just like the star that represented Thomas Reece. A bureaucrat somewhere in the building had decided omitting the names was necessary so as not to expose certain sources and methods.
Reece stepped back and took a breath, composing himself as CIA staff came and went behind him, wearing suits and carrying briefcases. Glancing at the opposite wall, Reece read the unofficial motto of the Central Intelligence Agency from Scripture, John 8:32: “And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”
We’ll see, he thought.
Reece badged through the turnstile and headed for the elevators. He felt the eyes of staffers, agents, executives, and security officers burning through him. As he navigated the maze of the world’s premier intelligence service, he remembered that it wasn’t that long ago they’d been part of the manhunt to capture and kill him.
Vic’s administrative assistant waved him through the open door into a spacious office. They didn’t bother sitting; instead they walked directly into the adjoining SCIF, Secure Compartmented Information Facility, which was a fancy name for a secure conference room. Reece placed his iPhone into what looked like a small post office box, locking it inside and pocketing the key. Once inside the soundproof room he took a seat across from the director of Clandestine Services.
“It’s good to see you, Reece. Thanks for coming in.”
“Good to see you, too, sir.”
“If you came on board full-time, we could do this on a regular basis. You might even get a parking spot one day.”
“We’ll see how it goes. What do you have for me?”
Reece had briefed Vic on the phone from Billings, speaking in riddles in case unwanted ears were listening.
Vic tapped a key on a secure laptop that was connected to a large LCD screen on the wall.
“The Bureau folks have been surprisingly generous with sharing information on this one. Frankly, I think an attack on U.S. soil against a former senator, whether he was the target or not, scared the shit out of them.”
Reece nodded.
“As you know, there were two teams: the one that attempted to ambush you on the highway and the second that moved on your friend Raife at the ranch.”
A group of pictures, along with an aerial photo of the ambush site, appeared on the screen.
“After you drive out of the ambush, the first team moves to the ranch, where Caroline Hastings puts a world of hurt on them until you arrive. We believe that everyone on that team has been accounted for.”
Vic advanced the slides and a close-up of six dead bodies were displayed.
“Except for the female they used as bait,” Reece said.
“Correct,” Vic continued, tapping the arrow key again.
A photo of an attractive young woman filled the screen.
“We’ve determined that she was working in Whitefish as a bartender. She’s a Russian national on a valid green card. Our guess is that she reconned this entire operation. She has not been back to work since this went down but we’ll find her.”
“She looks familiar. I’ve seen her around town.”
“On that second group, the initial forensics report says that one of them is missing; there was blood on the scene with no body to match. You know anything about that?”
Reece shook his head.
“Didn’t think you would. They’re still running full profiles, but it looks like they were all ethnic Russians.”
“The tattoos made that clear. Anything on the weapons?”
“ATF is working on it but they were all Russian-made AKMs, so they didn’t come through legal channels. Millions of those guns were made so that probably won’t give us much to go on.”
“What about Hanna Hastings; anything on who might have grabbed her?” Reece asked, wanting to confirm his findings from the interrogation.
“Nothing yet. We pulled in some local assets to investigate and