Titus Ray Thriller Box Set, page 66
part #1 of Titus Ray Series
Carlton said, “Don’t be long, Titus. There’s several things we need to discuss.”
“I won’t be but a minute.”
I took longer than that, but it wasn’t Mitchell’s fault.
* * * *
I’d been right about Mitchell. I hadn’t left anything in his car; he had just wanted to talk. As soon as we walked out of the house, he started bombarding me with questions.
“What about the phone number Felipe gave us? I didn’t expect you to show it to the feds, but why didn’t you at least mention it to Douglas?”
I didn’t say anything until we were further away from the house.
Once we’d walked over to the Suburban, I said, “Information is a powerful commodity in this business, Ben. If you come across something important, something no one else has, you should view it as an unexpected windfall and stash it away somewhere for a rainy day. One day, when a storm pops up on the horizon, you’ll be glad you did.”
He nodded. “Okay, I get that. But sooner or later, Felipe is going to tell the feds about that telephone number.”
“I’m sure he will, but I think Felipe has a hard time remembering numbers. More than likely, he can’t recall that phone number, and he’ll tell the feds he wrote it down on the bag, the same way he told us about it.”
“But won’t they—”
“By the time the DHS guys show up in Carlton’s office and demand we share that bag of chips with them, the Agency will have already figured out whether the number is connected to Hezbollah or not. That way, no matter what happens, we’ll be one step ahead of them, and when you find yourself sharing the roadway with the feds, that’s a good place to be.”
“Is that why you made the phone call before the feds showed up? Do you have someone tracing that number right now?”
“That’s right.”
As if on cue, my phone vibrated.
“But what if—”
“Sorry, Ben,” I said, heading back towards the house, “I need to get back inside and see what Carlton wants.”
When I walked back inside the house, I took the first left and entered the living room.
Gladys had always called it the great room instead of the living room, and, with its multiple seating areas, it had obviously been designed for entertaining large groups of people.
I didn’t care anything about the room’s design. All I cared about was whether the room was far enough away from Carlton’s study to prevent him from being able to overhear my conversation with Katherine.
I pulled out my iPhone and looked down at the caller ID before accepting the call.
However, the call wasn’t from Katherine.
It was from Nikki Saxon.
* * * *
Nikki and I had met in Norman, about a month after the DDO had forced me to take a year’s medical leave. My initial encounter with Detective Nikki Saxon had not been an auspicious one.
She had been assigned to investigate the death of a young woman I’d recently met. Since I’d been the person who’d discovered the woman’s body, the detective had conducted an extensive interrogation of me and had even considered me a possible suspect in the murder investigation.
Because of those suspicions, and also because Ahmed Al-Amin could have been involved in the woman’s death, I’d made the decision to break Agency rules and reveal my true identity to the detective. Although she’d been skeptical of my assertion, after verifying my CIA employment with a mutual friend, she’d allowed me to work with her to find the woman’s killer.
Despite the circumstances surrounding our introduction, I’d been captivated by Nikki from the moment we’d first met. Admittedly, in the beginning, I was drawn to her beautiful face and incredible figure. Later, after getting to know her better, I realized the hidden qualities she possessed were equally appealing.
Such an attraction was unusual for me because I considered myself a loner, and, with my lousy track record with women, I’d made it a practice never to get too close to the opposite sex.
In spite of this, Nikki and I had established a connection, and our fledgling relationship had been one of the reasons I’d purchased a home in Norman and left Stormy in her care when I’d gone after Ahmed.
Having Nikki look after Stormy had been an ideal situation when I’d been on assignment in Caracas. Now, however, Nikki had been invited to attend the FBI’s sixteen-week Law Enforcement Training School in Quantico, Virginia, and her classes were due to begin in less than a week.
After Carlton had ordered me back to Langley, I’d discussed with her what we should do about Stormy. She’d agreed the only thing we could do was to board him somewhere, and she’d offered to find him a suitable kennel before she left Norman.
Even though I knew she was probably calling me about Stormy’s care, when I accepted the call, I felt a twinge of excitement at the thought of hearing her voice again.
“Hi, Titus. I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.”
I walked over to the windows facing the west side of Carlton’s property and looked out on the backyard. It was a peaceful setting.
“No, Nikki, it’s fine. Nothing’s happening around here right now.”
As I gazed out on Carlton’s country garden, with its trimmed bushes and blossoming flowers, I suddenly had a vision of Nikki and me walking hand in hand down the sloping path toward the swimming pool.
“Were you able to get some rest after you got there?”
Nikki’s question brought me back to reality.
I couldn’t very well tell her I’d been busy kidnapping a young Hispanic kid, smuggling him out of a hot zone, and transporting him to a magnificent country estate. Nor could I tell her I believed this same kid was involved in a Hezbollah plot to use chemical weapons on the nation’s capital.
Since the truth wasn’t an option for me, I did what I did best and lied to her.
As I stared out at the perfectly manicured grounds, I assured her I’d spent a restful afternoon at a Residence Inn in Arlington, Virginia. After spinning my tale, I changed the subject and asked her if she’d had any luck finding a kennel for Stormy.
“As long as it’s okay with you, I think I’ve come up with a better solution. I’ve asked my captain to let Stormy stay out at his farm again. I believe I told you he has two labs of his own, and when I went out there to pick Stormy up after your mother’s funeral, he seemed reluctant to leave his new playmates behind.”
In the middle of the Clear Signal operation, I’d been forced to fly home to Flint, Michigan, to attend my mother’s funeral. The day after I’d arrived there, Nikki had surprised me by showing up at my hotel.
She’d explained her presence by saying she was there because that’s what friends did for each other. I hadn’t argued with her. In fact, I’d been so happy to see her, I’d been speechless.
Later, after spending several days with her, I realized I wanted Nikki to be more than just a friend who showed up at funerals.
“That sounds like the perfect arrangement. What about you? Are you leaving for Quantico soon?”
“I’m planning to leave in a couple of days. I should be there by the end of the week. Will I be able to see you then?”
Although I was happy she’d asked the question, I knew I couldn’t make such a commitment, so I brushed her off. “I doubt it, Nikki, but you’ll be so busy at Quantico, you won’t have time to think about me.”
Suddenly, I knew I wasn’t alone, and I instinctively grabbed for my gun as I turned away from the window.
Seconds later, when I saw who was standing in the doorway, I released my grip on the gun and immediately told Nikki goodbye.
Carlton asked, “Who’s Nikki and why is she coming to Quantico?”
Chapter 9
I thought of several bogus responses I could give to Carlton’s question, but before I started spinning an answer, I reconsidered.
It was one thing to lie to Nikki because I’d sworn not to divulge Agency secrets to anyone without the proper clearances, but it was an entirely different matter to lie to Carlton about my personal life.
I hadn’t always felt that way, but since making a commitment to follow the teachings of Christ, I’d felt increasingly guilty about my tendency to be less than truthful about personal matters.
“Nikki Saxon is a woman I met in Norman. She’s a detective in the Norman Police Department, and she’s been taking care of Stormy while I’ve been out of town.”
I tried to deliver this information as dispassionately as possible, hoping against hope Carlton wouldn’t pursue the matter any further.
“If she’s a local detective, why’s she coming to Quantico?”
Obviously, he was going to pursue the matter further.
“She was selected for the FBI’s Law Enforcement Training School. It begins next week, and since we’ll both be out of town, we were just discussing where I should board Stormy.”
Carlton sat down on one of the sofas and gestured for me to join him. I reluctantly walked over and sat down in a chair opposite him.
He said, “That’s quite an honor. You know the Bureau is very selective about who gets invited to that course.”
“Yes, I knew that.”
“If she’s fortunate enough to graduate, she’ll be part of Homeland Security’s national defense team. It’s a tough course, though, and not everyone makes it.”
“Nikki mentioned that.”
Carlton looked off in the distance for a moment, and then, as if he’d suddenly remembered something, he pointed at me and said, “Wasn’t she the detective involved in the discovery of that Hezbollah sleeper cell in Norman? You remember? The one Danny Jarrar uncovered not long after you moved down there?”
Danny was a former CIA operative who’d gone to work for the Oklahoma Bureau of Investigation (OSBI). I’d made contact with him shortly after arriving in Norman, and when Nikki and I had needed help on the murder investigation, I’d called on him for backup.
Later, when I’d stumbled across a nest of Islamic terrorists operating out of north Texas, Danny had used his OSBI credentials to prevent both the Agency and the FBI from learning I’d taken part in a domestic encounter—something the feds didn’t take lightly and the Agency didn’t tolerate. Instead, Danny had attributed the discovery of the sleeper cell to Nikki Saxon, one of Norman’s finest detectives.
Now, as I observed Carlton’s body language, I wasn’t so sure Danny had been successful in keeping my association with Nikki a secret from him.
“Of course I remember, and you’re right, Nikki worked with Danny to bring down that Jihadi network.”
Suddenly, he leaned forward and stared at me as if he wanted to drill a hole straight through to my brain. I immediately recognized Carlton’s interrogation stance, the posture he assumed when he was questioning the bad guys.
Seconds later, he hit me with a barrage of questions.
“Did Danny introduce you to Detective Saxon?”
“No, he wasn’t—”
“Is your legend good with her? Does she think you work for the Consortium?”
Like all covert operatives, the moment I’d joined the CIA, I’d been given a public cover, something the Agency referred to as a Career Legend.
According to my Career Legend, I was an employee of the Consortium for International Studies, a think tank based in College Park, Maryland. Among the staff listed in the CIS directory was Titus Alan Ray, a Senior Fellow in Middle Eastern Programs.
That would be me.
Everyone in my family, and the few friends I had outside of the Agency, thought I was a nerdy pundit who worked at a scholarly think-tank. I knew they must picture me laboring away at a desk all day writing papers and doing research.
A few months after I’d gone to work for the Agency, I’d driven by the Consortium’s building just to make sure it really did exist.
It did.
However, after years of being listed as one of their employees, I had yet to set foot inside their building.
I said, “Danny didn’t introduce us, but yes, when I met Nikki, I told her I was employed by CIS.”
“If Danny didn’t introduce you, how did you meet Detective Saxon?”
For whatever reason, the moment I’d spotted Carlton standing in the doorway, I knew he would eventually back me into this corner, even if it took him all night to do it.
Nikki once asked me what the Agency would do if they found out I’d violated their sacrosanct rules and disclosed my true identity to her. At the time, I’d assured her it wasn’t going to matter as long as I shared it with my handler before taking my next polygraph.
Now, I was about to find out if that were true or just wishful thinking on my part.
I looked Carlton in the eye. “When I met Nikki, I was being detained as a possible suspect in a homicide investigation.”
Carlton pursed his lips, glanced up at the ceiling, and then leaned back against the sofa and said nothing for several seconds.
Finally, he nodded and said, “I believe that statement requires an explanation. I suggest you make it a good one.”
I gave him an explanation, but whether it was a good one or not wasn’t relevant. It was the truth.
* * * *
After describing the circumstances of how Nikki and I had met, I revealed why I’d made the decision to disclose my true identity to her.
At first, Carlton appeared skeptical of my choice, but when I mentioned that some of the early evidence in the murder investigation pointed to a connection between the victim and Ahmed Al-Amin, he seemed less doubtful. Then, by the time I was wrapping up my narrative, he was nodding his head.
When I finally finished, Carlton said, “Okay, now that you’ve told me exactly what happened, Danny’s account makes a lot more sense. His story was chocked full of holes.”
Hoping Carlton and I might share an inside joke about Danny, I laughed and said, “Danny’s stories usually are.”
There was no humor in Carlton’s reply.
“You’ll need to file a Disclosure of Personal Information form, and, in this case, it has to be the long version.”
If a CIA employee inadvertently revealed personal classified information, the filing of a DPI was always mandatory. However, when the disclosure was deliberate, not just an inadvertent slip, the long form was required.
In other words, filing a DPI-L meant an employee had intentionally blown his cover to an unauthorized person, which was pretty much what I’d done with Nikki.
Still, I decided to argue the point with him.
“Nikki is a member of law enforcement. I thought that might—”
“No, that doesn’t matter. You gave an unauthorized person classified information. In doing so, you revealed your standing with the Agency. That constitutes a criminal offense.”
“Technically that might be true, Douglas, but I only gave her the barest of details about my status with the Agency, and, of course, I never disclosed anything operational.”
Carlton nodded. “I’m sure of that, and I can understand why you made the decision to tell her you were with the Agency, but that doesn’t negate the law.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say.
After a few seconds of silence, Carlton looked over at me, and smiled. “You know, it’s fortunate Detective Saxon was chosen for the FBI’s specialized training. A few months from now, she’ll have a higher security classification than when you told her you were CIA.”
I mulled over Carlton’s statement for a moment.
Finally, the fog dissipated, and everything became perfectly clear.
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” I said. “If I don’t file the DPI for a few months, my breach of security won’t really matter?”
“Quite possibly,” he said, nodding his head. “Quite possibly.”
“Then, if it’s all the same to you, Douglas, I’ll contact Legal after Nikki completes the FBI course.”
Carlton didn’t respond to my statement. Instead, he got up from the sofa, straightened his jacket, and said, “Meet me in my study in thirty minutes. We have more important things to discuss than Detective Saxon.”
Before leaving the room, he looked back and said, “Don’t forget, Titus. Your detective has to pass that course in order to get her security clearance.”
I assured him. “Nothing to worry about there.”
It was an FBI course.
How hard could it be?
* * * *
When Carlton left the room, I walked back over to the windows and gazed out at the tranquil garden scene once again.
For one brief moment, I tried to imagine myself living at The Meadows with a wife and a couple of kids. I tried to picture waking up every morning unaware of the threats facing America.
Unable to get my head around that scenario, I gave up after a few minutes and turned my thoughts to Carlton and the psychological game we had just played out in Gladys’ great room.
I wasn’t sure if Danny had deliberately told Carlton I’d revealed my identity to Nikki, or whether Danny had accidently let that information slip from his sometimes-loose lips.
But, however it happened, I felt certain Carlton knew about my relationship with Nikki before he ever walked in the room and overheard my conversation with her.
I thought back to the letter Nikki had shown me when I’d returned from Caracas, the one inviting her to attend the FBI classes. At the bottom of the letter, Danny Jarrar’s name had been listed as the person recommending her for the training. Now, I suspected Carlton had been responsible for getting Nikki’s name added to that training course roster.
Had Carlton done this in order to keep me out of trouble with the Agency’s Legal Division?
Probably.
Did he have some other motive for doing so?
Probably.
* * * *
The moment I decided to head off to the kitchen in search of a snack—perhaps a bag of potato chips—Katherine called me.
