Reginald Cook - Veil

“Thank you Agent Sams. But do you think it’s possible you can search it again?”

Agent Sams looked puzzled. “That’ll make six times. I think five is more than enough.”

“I understand, and you certainly don’t have to take orders from me.

But please. Indulge me. For the judge’s sake.” Sams looked around the estate at his team. “Okay Mr. Veil, but after this I have to pull some of my men to get ready for the reception tonight.”

“Thank you Sams. I know it’s overkill, but this guy has slipped through one of the biggest manhunts in history.” Sams’ face twisted. “And don’t think it doesn’t have us heated. I’m gonna hang this guy’s balls from my rear view.”

“You’ll have to beat me to them first,” said Robert.

They laughed, then Sams stared at Robert, like he had something on his mind.

“Anything else agent?’

“I’m curious about something.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. How is it you and your partner get the run of the farm? I know you worked for the CIA and did a stint in the Marines. I’ve just never heard of such a thing.”

Robert considered the question. Not the first time he’d been asked.

“It’s classified Agent Sams. No offense, but let’s leave it at that.” Robert headed to the main house. His mind drifted away from the Bear, to Iraq. From Rothschild, to Iraqi Freedom. One of his assignments during the war was a clandestine operation, code name: Scorpion. Their mission: assassinate Saddam Hussein and any heirs to his dictatorship. Intelligence on Saddam’s whereabouts proved sketchy.

Instead of the monarch, they found members of Saddam’s family including women and children. Their orders clear, no prisoners, the mission failed, sabotaged by him and Thorne. That, with their refusal to execute a group of scientists, and the brass had had enough. He and Thorne walked out on the government and never looked back.

Connected and well trained. Bounty hunters. Guns for hire.

Robert spotted Fiona standing on the balcony over looking the backyard, and saw the strain on her face. She waved. He answered with an encouraging smile before she turned and disappeared inside the house.

Robert didn’t want to add to Fiona’s problems, but something gnawed at him. Something he needed to address.

He crossed the patio and slid through the back door into the kitchen, where Caroline, Fiona’s chef, prepared lunch for the federal agents.

Just beyond the kitchen, Robert admired the most elaborate family room he’d ever seen. Pool and ping-pong tables, a two-lane bowling alley, a vintage jukebox, arcade games, and just about every other toy a grown boy needed to stay entertained, surrounded a mammoth entertainment center with a sixty-inch plasma screen.

“I do love sports,” said Fiona, behind him. He turned around. “My father turned me into a sports fiend,” she continued. “I think he really wanted a boy.”

“He could’ve adopted me anytime,” said Robert, noting how lovely she looked in a sleeveless black sundress splattered with lime green flowers. “And you’re certainly no boy.”

The compliment drew a smile from Fiona, who blushed. “Thank you Mr. Veil. I didn’t think you noticed such things. You’re so caught up in your work.”

“You’re right. I do get caught up in my work. But I notice most things, Judge Patrick.”

“Please call me Fiona.”

“Ok Fiona, I do notice most things, especially the beautiful, and you should call me Robert.” Flirting with a potential Supreme Court Justice.

I’m definitely moving up in the world. She seems to be in a better mood.

This is as good a time as any.

“Fiona, we have a problem.”

“You mean it can get worse,” she said, laughing. “How could there possibly be more?”

“I think the reception tonight is a bad idea,” he told her. “You’ll be far too exposed and I don’t think you should take the chance.” Fiona’s light-heartedness melted away. “You want me to cancel on the President? The President of the United States!”

“Yes,” he said, firmly. “It’s just too dangerous. And it might be a good idea to send Jessica to stay with a relative, at least until the confirmation hearings are over.”

Fiona walked to the pool table, tears streaming down her face. Robert followed and placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be alright, I promise you. We just have to take extra precautions.”

“To hell with you and your precautions,” she said, knocking his hand from her shoulder. “I can’t wave this off, it’s crucial. Every member of the judiciary committee will be there.”

“They know what’s at stake. They’ll understand.”

“I’ll look like a coward,” she said, raising her voice an entire octave.

You’re supposed to watch out for me, not bury me.”

“I’m trying to protect you. Save your life.”

“I want you out of here,” she screamed. “Now!” She picked up the cue ball and hurled it into a trophy case. The glass exploded. Fiona marched into the den and slammed the door behind her. Several agents scrambled into the room. He put his hands up to let them know everything was okay.

“Is everything alright Mr. Veil?” asked Agent Sams, as the others panned out and inspected the damage.

“It was an accident. Everything is under control,” he told them.

Agent Sams gave Robert a knowing look, ordered his men outside, and holstered his gun. “Mr. Veil, this has been hard on all of us. But I think we need to keep things as routine for the judge as possible.” Robert understood. Secret Service agents were trained to protect, but were also skilled at making those they protected feel as normal as possible. He thanked the agent.

Agent Sams turned to leave, then hesitated. “It’s no secret most of us resent your involvement.”

“I know. It’s been a long standing feud.”

“Well, the boys in the trenches, myself included, want you to know we understand. We’ll be there when, and if, you need us.”

“That’s a change of heart for you.”

“The past is the past,” said Sams. “Let’s just say making sure the judge lives through this takes precedent. When this is over we can go back to status quo.” He smiled and left the room.

Thorne walked in and admired the smashed trophy case. “Well, I see you’ve got everything under control.”

“What about you? I’m sure you’ve got it all under control and Julie Rice is sitting outside in your car, with the missing evidence.” She shot him a go to hell expression, picked up the cue ball and tossed it on the pool table. “No,” she said. “I didn’t find a thing. In fact, I feel further away than when we started.”

“What about the cemetery brochures?”

“I checked the records at each, looked at the mausoleums of several.

Dry so far. Not a sign of Charlie anywhere.”

“That makes sense,” said Robert, aggravated. “After all, we’re looking for fly shit in pepper.”

“Not really,” said Thorne.

Robert moved in closer. He needed good news.

“Charlie knew he was going to contact us, to bring this whole thing out, right?”

Robert nodded.

“He was smart,” she continued. “A vile little fucker, but not stupid.

There has to be something we’re missing. A clue he knew we’d find if something went wrong.”

“You’re right,” Robert agreed. “We’ll have a look at the cemeteries again. The brochures are the key. The evidence is in one of them, I know it. After the reception we’ll check.” Robert cracked a smile.

“You were right about this one, huh?”

“Fool, don’t get me started.”

“Look at it this way,” said Robert. “It can’t get much worse.” Thorne cracked a smile. “Well, hold onto your butt’ cause it is.” She crossed her arms and stepped closer. “My friends at NSA tell me there’s been a stirring high in government circles. A revelation about President Kennedy’s assassination. They mentioned you, me, Charlie, and Rothschild.”