LONG-RANGE NIGHT OPTICS were Will Robie’s best friend. He was lying prone, sighting through one of his favorite pieces of surveillance hardware. It didn’t match the “eyesight” of the radar array facility he was watching currently, but it was more than good enough for his purposes.
He’d been here for an hour and during that time had barely moved. Being able to lie motionless and intensely focused on his target for inordinately long periods of time was Robie’s bread and butter. Without it, he couldn’t do his job.
Vector guards continued to make their rounds. A small jet had landed about an hour before. He couldn’t see who had gotten off. Before that, two choppers had lifted off the ground and one had returned. A few vehicles had left the facility through the main gate but all had returned.
He watched another car head toward the front gate. He zeroed in on Colonel Mark Sumter as the driver. Robie had been briefed on him and seen multiple photos of the man. Sumter was alone in the vehicle, and he was not in uniform.
Where might the colonel be going at this late hour?
Robie collapsed the tripod holding his scope and sprinted to his electric scooter. He timed it so he would hit the road Sumter was on about ten seconds after the man passed that spot.
He pulled in behind Sumter with his lights off. He had slipped on a pair of night-vision goggles, enabling him to see clearly without exposing himself by using his headlight. Sumter drove straight down the road, not turning off at any intersection until he was about five miles from downtown London. Then he hung a left down a windy gravel road. In the distance, as he rounded a sharp curve, Robie could see a small house with a light on. There was a large tree out front.
Robie pulled off the road and set his scooter down on its side in some tall grass. He made the rest of his way to the house on foot. He performed a sweep of the property looking for sentries but saw none. He took up a surveillance position behind the tree, which was set about ten feet from the front door. There was no other vehicle in front of the house other than Sumter’s car. A minute later Robie quietly made his way to the front window where the light was shining through.
The window was closed, but the curtains were not fully shut. Through a sliver of an opening, Robie could see the profile of a man. He was in his late sixties, jowly and gray haired, and dressed in a conservative dark suit with a blue-and-red unknotted tie.
Robie took the man’s picture with a thumb-sized camera and next pulled from his pocket a device that looked like an extra-long pen with a wired earbud attached to one end. He pressed the other end, which had a small suction cup attached, against the glass and inserted the bud in his ear.
Voices filtered into his ear.
“The intrusion is concerning, Colonel,” said the older man. “It’s not something that was anticipated.”
Robie next heard Sumter’s response. “We don’t know what they wanted. The SUV was untraceable. It’s not just concerning. It’s my ass on the line after all.”
“Don’t let your nerves run away with you. It’ll be fine.”
“Again, my ass is on the line.”
“All of our asses are on the line. But what we’re doing is for the greater good. You agree with that, don’t you? National security and all?”
“Yes, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”
“Then we just have to redouble our security efforts and keep our heads down. I can run interference for you in Washington. You have our full backing.”
“And Vector?”
“They do their job and they do it well. Enough said.”
“But what if someone’s found who can, well, blow everything up?”
“It’s true there is not complete alignment on this issue, but I think even if the American people found out they would not be troubled.”
“Jesus, we can’t go take a poll. This is all classified. Maybe the most classified thing I’ve ever been involved in.”
“The same could be said for me, although I’ve been in this business far longer than you. Now, the FBI came to see you with questions?”
“I’m executive-lagging that. And in the end I won’t get back to them. I’ll blame it on DoD security protocols.”
“I think that’s wise. I can help with that as well. I have high-up contacts at the Bureau. Whatever got that tail wagging, I can put the kibosh on it.”
“That would be greatly appreciated.” Sumter paused. “You know we could have just spoken on the phone. These late-night meetings could raise suspicion.”
“No, we could not talk on the phone, no matter how secure it might be. Emails, texts, phone calls, all of that can be captured and then used against someone. These meetings, face-to-face, no record exists.” The man paused. “Except in the memories of each of us.”
Sumter seemed to get the man’s meaning. “I’m never going to talk to anyone about this.”
The man nodded. “Everything else is fine? No concerns?”
“The ones I’ve already told you are concerns enough for me. But the rest of the operation is fine, yes.”
“Good. Well, I will put my efforts into motion and you will do what I have advised. Until next week, then. I’ll let you know where and when.”
Robie retreated to about fifty yards from the house and watched as Sumter came out, climbed into his car, and drove off.
When the other man did not appear, Robie drew closer to the house and waited.
He did not have to wait long.
He fell back and hunched down as the sound of the chopper came closer. He saw the blinking lights from the belly of the aircraft. Next a searchlight flitted over the house and yard as Robie quickly lay flat in the high grass, facedown.
He only lifted his head when he could tell by the sounds of the engine reducing power and the whump-whump of the chopper’s props lessening that the aircraft was landing.
The front door of the house opened up and the older gent came out, crossed the yard quickly, and climbed into a rear door of the chopper. It immediately lifted off, as Robie shot pictures of all of it.
A minute later he was back on his scooter flying down the road toward town. He wanted to report in with Blue Man.
It would prove to be far more difficult than he had thought.
BUT DOES THAT HAVE anything to do with our case?” asked Jamison as they sat in the hotel lobby late that night.
“It’s not a crime for Hugh Dawson to sell out to Stuart McClellan,” noted Decker. “But to answer your question, I don’t know if there is a connection. Yet.”
“Do you think McClellan is involved in this somehow?”
“If Irene Cramer knew something that was damaging to him, it’s possible. I just don’t know what that might be. But I think the military installation is a more promising suspect. I think that’s why she came up here.”
“There’s clearly something going on over there,” said Jamison. “From what Robie found out and our discussion with his boss.”
“We need to talk to Brad Daniels again.”
“And Robie’s boss seems to think that something is off there. I mean, why have two redundant facilities in North Dakota?”
“So the one here has an ulterior purpose.”
“The guy running away that Robert White saw?” said Decker.
“Yeah?”
“The guy was obviously trying to escape.”
“So you think there’s some sort of prison being operated over there?”
“Maybe.”
“And the ambulances?”
“It seems to be the sort of prison where people suffer injury routinely enough to require medical attention off-site.”
“But if they are operating a prison over there, where would they take the injured prisoners? I mean, if they’re trying to keep it secret, they can’t just drive them to the local hospital.”
“They have a runway. They have choppers coming and going at odd hours.”
Jamison looked at him in alarm. “You think they’re flying these guys out?”
“And maybe they don’t come back.”
“Decker, all of that sounds really illegal. I mean, you can’t hurt prisoners, fly them out, and then they disappear. They have rights.”
“Maybe they’re not ordinary prisoners, Alex.”
She gaped at him. “Meaning what?”
“It’s a military facility. Maybe they’re military prisoners of a sort.”
“But if they are military prisoners, they still have rights.”
“Maybe they’re not members of the military or even American citizens. Remember White said the guy was talking gibberish?”
“He said he thought the guy was nuts or maybe on drugs.”
“Or maybe speaking a foreign language.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Maybe they’re running another Guantanamo up here in North Dakota.”
Jamison slumped back in her seat. “Another Gitmo, here?”
“You wouldn’t want to transfer a bunch of enemy combatants or terrorists to New York City or another really populated area. And if this facility is redundant, it would be the perfect place.”
“Right. And then Vector is brought in to handle security.”
Decker nodded. “They show up here and the Air Force people get kicked out, leaving Sumter as the sole remaining flag bearer to give it a modicum of respect. I think Vector was brought in to watch over the people they’re keeping there. And maybe interrogating them to the point of their being injured.”
“But that’s not allowed anymore.”
“Says who?” replied Decker sharply.
Jamison started to reply but then seemed to think better of it. He eased forward in his chair. “It would also explain why Robie is on the scene.”
“But they told us why. It was because of what happened to Irene Cramer’s mother.”
Decker shook his head. “Robie’s boss struck me as one real heavyweight. And Robie, too. Maybe they’re upset that Cramer got killed after what happened to her mother under their watch, but feeling guilty isn’t a reason to bring those kind of assets up here. There’s something else, another reason why they’re here.”
Jamison snapped her fingers. “Robie’s boss said that some big players may already be on the scene here. And that clearly was a problem.”
“If they’re running a secret prison engaging in illegal interrogation, I think that would qualify as something people would kill to keep quiet about.” He tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair. “The only problem is that theory doesn’t square with why Cramer came here in the first place. Daniels told her something about that facility. But that was from a long time ago, long before Vector or any potential prisoners showed up there.”
“So you mean there has to be something else going on? Namely, whatever Daniels told Cramer that compelled her to move here?”
Decker nodded. “But if Cramer came up here to find out something about that facility based on what Daniels told her, and then stumbled onto what they’re doing now?”
“That’s a motive to kill her. But why slice open her stomach and intestines?”
“Her mother was a spy. Maybe she taught her kid to swallow secrets, or she saw her mother do it before. The people who killed Cramer might have somehow known this and cut her open to get it back. Then they tried to hide that by performing a postmortem on her and also blackmailing Walt Southern.”
“But why leave the body out there like that? I mean, they could have buried it somewhere. No one would have found her and we’d never have been called in.”
“Well, one explanation is that they didn’t know about her past. Local murder, local cops working on it, not the FBI. If it came out she was a prostitute the local cops would have chalked it up to that. And if they had blackmailed Southern to mess with the postmortems, the cops probably wouldn’t have even focused on the stomach and intestines. I had to read that report three times to find a reference to it.”
“I’m surprised he even referred to it at all.”
“Guy was covering his ass in case this all came out. He could say, hey, it’s right there, even if I didn’t highlight it or take photos of that specific region. I checked for contraband and found none. And the livor mortis miscue? He could chalk that up to not being a full-time pathologist. No, he was hedging his bets all right.”
“So they would have found her body, done the post, conducted the investigation, and come up with zip.”
“Which is better for them than no one finding her, and the cops keep digging and maybe call in other resources to try to find her. The fact that she was a prostitute, or at least holding herself out as one, would make for an easy answer for the cops. It’s a high-risk profession. Women like that get murdered all the time and their bodies get dumped. Cops poke around and then move on to the next case.”
“That does make sense.”
“Well, that’s something, since nothing else in this damn case makes the least bit of sense,” growled Decker.