Dan Fesperman - Unmanned

The men pulled off their ski masks. Sharpe was the first of the five captives to speak.

“I’ll be damned. Hell of a way to get reacquainted, Wade.”

“Nelson. Long time. You, too, Captain Cole.”

“Wade fucking Castle,” Barb said, almost hissing it. “We’ve met before, too.”

Castle narrowed his eyes for a full, frowning appraisal before the light of recognition dawned. “Tangora, wasn’t it?”

She nodded.

“Surprised you can remember anything,” he said. “You were completely freaked.”

“That tends to happen when you’ve just seen chunks of flesh landing all over the lot.”

“And you’re Riggleman,” Cole said to the second man. “So you’re a captain now. General Hagan must like you.”

“Likes me so much he forgot to bail me out.”

“Enough with the reunion chitchat,” Castle said. “Let’s get down to our first important announcement. We’re not here to kill you or harm you. We’re here to work with you. Because, trust me—and I’m afraid that’s something you’ll have to do, if this arrangement is going to work—after the last few days of watching you I think I know what you guys are after, and I’m after exactly the same thing.”

The whole room exhaled. Not that Cole had really felt threatened once the masks came off. Maybe he was being naïve, but he even believed the man. To a point, at least.

“Regrettably, there’s an awkward bit of housekeeping to attend to. As it happens, I’m not willing to welcome all of you into this arrangement. First, we have to deal with a traitor in your midst.”

All five of them looked at each other. For a second Cole even worried that Castle was talking about him—triggered by something from his Air Force file, maybe, or the court-martial. His worries then turned to Keira, if only because she was the one whose loyalty the others had always questioned. Or maybe it was Sharpe, the one with all the shadowy friends giving him whatever he needed.

Castle raised his gun and pointed it across the room at Steve.

“Step forward, Mr. Merritt, to face the charges.” Then, turning to Riggleman: “Tell the others what you told me, Captain.”

Cole studied the emotions registering in Steve’s features. Shock. Outrage. Indignation. A little fear as well, as his eyes flicked back and forth to the gun in Castle’s hand. But there was something else, too: Guilt.

Steve stepped forward.

RIGGLEMAN WOVE A BRIEF but complicated tale of circuitous financial dealings that began with IntelPro and ended with a fellowship grant for $100,000 that Steve had won several months ago, right about the time he began pursuing his journalistic investigation of Wade Castle, aka Fort1. The account, which reminded Cole of the way the young officer had undressed his entire fighter squadron for its security lapses, led them deftly down a trail of sham corporations, silent partners, and finally to a seemingly beneficent organization known as the Melville Center for Reporting on Strategic and Military Affairs.

“I was told it was legit,” Steve protested. “And why the hell would IntelPro go to the trouble of setting up a whole network of bullshit companies just to give me an amount of money that to them is chump change?”

Riggleman, unruffled, was about to answer when Barb interrupted.

“Because you were a secondary recipient, an afterthought.” Everyone turned toward her. Her eyes were lit by the thrill of discovery. “Because all those damn companies he just mentioned—the Lane Corporation, the Melville Center, and every last one of their silent partners—has turned up in one way or another in the investment portfolios—the very lucrative investment portfolios—of all the officers in Captain Cole’s chain of command for Predator ops at Creech. Including your boss, Captain Riggleman—General Hagan. He’s right there in the IntelPro cesspool, too. The only link I couldn’t find was this Comstock Group you just mentioned. But that’s the one that ties everything together. And it ties in this Melville reporting foundation. Which sinks you, Steve.”

“I had no idea,” Steve said.

“Steve!” Barb admonished.

“ None! ”

“ Steve! He has you dead to rights! And at some point they had to have told you. Otherwise it was pointless for them to do it. They wanted you to know who was paying the freight. It’s clear as can be. So give it up, okay?”

He opened his mouth to protest further, then stopped and slowly shook his head. Everyone realized without a further word that it was over. The fight went out of his eyes, and he slumped against the wall. Barb was probably the only one who was no longer watching him. Cole could tell by the distracted look on her face that she was still adding all these new pieces to the intricate edifice she’d constructed in the course of her research.

“Comstock,” she muttered again, looking at Riggleman. “That’s the keystone, the entity that binds it all. Damn good work.”

He nodded back, a bit pridefully, seeming gratified to at last be appreciated.

“Christ,” Sharpe exclaimed, the first words he’d spoken since Castle’s arrival. “You two should get married or something.”

The remark broke the ice, and the dynamic shifted. Even Castle smiled. Everyone did except Steve, who was now the outcast, the interloper. Cole’s old role. Castle went from person to person, cutting loose their plastic handcuffs. Then he turned back toward Steve.

“I’d appreciate if you’d hand over your cell phone for the duration,” he said. “And you won’t be leaving the premises until our work is done.”

This brought Steve momentarily back to life.

“What, I’m your prisoner now?”

“Let’s say it’s voluntary. But how ’bout handing over your phone all the same.”

Castle held out a hand. He didn’t brandish a gun, but everyone knew he still had one. Cole then voiced the conclusion that he figured everyone else was already thinking.

“You killed the guy in the woods the other night, didn’t you, Wade.”

“Had to. He was here to kill me.” Castle hadn’t taken his eyes off Steve. “Hand it over.”

Steve gave in. Who wouldn’t have, considering what they’d just heard?

“Smart man,” Castle said, pocketing the phone. He was about to say more when Steve made a last stand of sorts, a final argument before sentencing.

“IntelPro had a story to tell,” he said. “They thought I’d be interested. They also knew what kind of shape I was in. Financially, I mean. Rent, alimony, credit cards, everything overdue and maxed out. Three different magazines stiffing me on checks. So they told me about this new fellowship, said they’d put in a word for me at the foundation. Yeah, the foundation they’d just set up. I found out that part later. At the time it wasn’t exactly in my interest to ask too many questions. And when you don’t have a rich family, or a place like this to fall back on…” He glanced pointedly at Keira.

“This isn’t about me, Steve,” Keira said.

“I know that. And I know what I’ve done. But the only agreement I ever made was to keep them posted about what you guys were coming up with, and only in the most general terms. They just didn’t want to be blindsided. Otherwise I was fully independent to pursue any angle, and that’s what we were doing. I kept thinking, all the way up to the end, that I could find a way to make it work. For all of us.”

“Like with that worthless source of yours?”

“He wasn’t worthless. He knew shit.”

“Shit that always steered us away from IntelPro. And so did you. No wonder you fought so hard against using the drone. Mr. Ethics, supposedly. You must have felt like their last line of defense.”