Mark Young - Off the grid

Cromwell stepped back as Gerrit swung open the door. “We need to talk. Privately.” He whirled around and crossed the street to his rental car. “Get in, O’Rourke.” It was a command, not a request.

Gerrit slid into the passenger side as Cromwell heaved himself behind the steering wheel. “What are you doing here, sir? I thought you’d be standing by in Seattle for details.”

“Plans change. I’m driving you to the airport.” Cromwell fired up the engine. “Taylor can bring your things later.”

“Boss, you came all the way down here to drive me to the airport?” Gerrit looked at him incredulously. “Besides, we’ve got a ton of evidence and property to seize back there. And the shooting team-”

“Leave it to me to coordinate. That’s why I am down here.” He yanked on the wheel and hit the car horn. “This comes from the top. I mean, straight from the top in Justice. Our chief got the word several hours ago. Ordered me to hop on a plane and personally drag your sorry carcass onto the next flight to D.C. They want you there yesterday.”

Marilynn’s earlier phone call flashed in Gerrit’s mind. “What’s up, Lieutenant? Why the urgency?”

“Sometimes, we’re just not given a reason. You’ve been in the military. When they say ‘jump,’ we just ask ‘how high.’ This is one of those times.”

“The shooting team took my weapons. I’ve got nothing on me.”

“Won’t need it where you’re going, although you never know about these Washington bureaucrats. Might want to consider wearing a bulletproof vest so they don’t stab you in the back.”

“Came here to fill me with confidence?”

“Don’t give a flying leap about your confidence. Just want to make sure you get on that plane.” Cromwell gave him a hard stare. “Son, be careful. Don’t know what’s going on, but these people are serious. Deadly serious. I’ve been around the block a few times, and my gut tells me you’d better watch out. Trust no one.”

Gerrit watched the road ahead. They pulled onto southbound I-5. Ten minutes later, Cromwell took the exit to San Diego International Airport, runways cutting between the USMC’s recruiting depot and the Navy’s fleet anti-sub warfare school along the edge of the San Diego Bay. A well-protected stretch of real estate.

As they neared the airport, Cromwell glanced over at him. “Oh, they have a passport waiting when you get to D.C. I guess you won’t be staying there long.”

“What? My passport is locked up in a safe in Seattle.”

The lieutenant shrugged. “My guess, they’ll be giving you undercover creds. Passport included. You’re on your way out of the country.”

“Where are they sending me? And who is ‘they’?”

Cromwell turned his attention back to the road. “They will tell you who ‘they’ is when they want to. Why they’re sending you, only God knows, son. Him and those calling the shots. Watch your back.”

Washington, D.C.

Gerrit landed in D.C. as a steel dawn cracked the eastern horizon. A man dressed in the black and white uniform of a chauffeur stood at the boarding gate peering at each passenger as they emerged from the plane. The man glanced toward him with a look of recognition, then moved in for contact. “This way, Detective. I have a car waiting.”

How did this guy get past security? The driver entered a code to access a secured door, then led him down a flight of stairs to the tarmac. A stretch limo was parked near the doorway.

The driver opened the car door to reveal a predawn greeting party for him-Marilynn; her father, Senator John Summers; and a third man Gerrit didn’t recognize. The senator leaned forward. “Climb on in, Detective. Get out of the cold.”

He stooped through the doorway and slid onto a black leather seat opposite Marilynn and her father. Senator Summer’s gravelly voice-as if hewed from granite rocks-spilled on about law enforcement, serving one’s country, and fighting the good fight. It was as if the man was trying to win Gerrit over as a voter.

After the political rhetoric, the senator leaned forward with a conspiratorial look, introduced the third man as someone from State without giving a name, then lowered his voice. “As you know, Gerrit, I sit on the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence. I also have a pipeline to the White House on intelligence matters. You know, the right hand keeping the left hand in the know.”

Gerrit stared back. Where was this conversation going? Marilynn avoided his glances, as if he wasn’t even here. The State guy-probably a spook-sat tight-lipped, watching.

“We’ve got friends in a lot of key places-particularly in the business community. People willing to help us protect this country and make it a safe place to live. Know what I mean?” The senator shot him a wink.

Gerrit looked on without responding. The word snakeskin came to mind as he studied the senator.

“My daughter tells me good things about you and your work on this here task force she runs.”

She finally gave him a glance.

“We have a situation, a matter of national security you might be able to help us with.”

“Like what, Senator?” So far, Gerrit didn’t have a clue as to why he was sitting in this plush ride.

Senator Summers sat up, back rigid, his look of friendship vanishing. Instead, a mask seemed to slip over the man’s face. His eyes narrowed. “I know about your service to our country while in the armed forces. Special Ops in the Mideast, several tours of duty. Impressive record, son.” The man’s impassive face seemed to conflict with his impassioned words. As he spoke, the senator seemed to be sizing Gerrit up as if trying to decide whether he could be trusted.

Gerrit pursed his lips, waiting for the senator to get to the point.

“We could use your special skills in an investigation, the details of which I am not at liberty to discuss right now. I want you to meet a friend of mine: Richard Kane. He’s expecting you in England later today.”

Gerrit glanced at his watch. It was 2:00 a.m. in Seattle, making it midmorning in London. He did a quick estimate. “There’s no way I can get to London until nine or ten this evening. And I still don’t have a clue as to why we’re meeting here, Senator?”

“Your chief has been briefed and gave approval to have you work with us,” the senator said. “Everything will become clear once you meet with Kane. Until then, we must maintain a certain level of discretion on our end. You understand.”

“Actually, I don’t, Senator. You’re shooting me a wink and nod, as if we are the best of friends, and giving me a line of bull. I’m not stupid. So far, you haven’t given me anything that would warrant my cooperation. Be specific.”

Senator Summers’s face flushed a bright red, and Marilynn shot Gerrit a shocked look. She leaned forward. “You can’t talk to my father that way-”

“Sure he can, hon,” the senator shot back, holding on to her arm as he apparently fought to restrain his own emotions. “We’re asking Detective Gerrit to trust me, and he doesn’t know me from Adam. After all, I’m a politician.” He laughed and leaned closer. “Look around you, son. We’re sitting out here in an unsecured location. I just can’t spell out national-security information in this environment. You can understand that, can’t you?”

Gerrit couldn’t help himself from nodding.

“I thought you’d understand. All I ask is that you meet with Kane and hear what he has to say. He will fill you in on all the details. He has high-level clearance and will be running the operations from his place in England. Then you decide from there. Fair enough?”

“Operation?” Gerrit already felt uneasy about the situation. He recognized the importance of maintaining security, but so far he had not been given anything to work on. And now, the senator was hinting about some operation on foreign soil?