Christopher Reich - Rules of Betrayal

“Gamble my ass. It was a calculated endeavor. It was us or nobody.”

“If you say so.”

“I do, Peter. I say that and more.”

Connor stood, keeping an eye on the screen. He would have enjoyed confronting Erskine about his treasonous activities, here in front of all his colleagues, but Connor hadn’t received sufficient proof. The NSA’s probe of Erskine’s telephone records showed nothing more interesting than a propensity to call his wife at any and all hours of the day, whether at home or at her work at the Justice Department. No unlisted numbers. No overseas calls to unknown individuals or organizations. The Financial Crimes Enforcement Network had yet to report back one way or the other about Erskine’s financial situation. For all his certainty about Erskine’s divided loyalties, Connor was hamstrung without hard evidence to back up his claims.

There was a commotion at the entry to the ops center. Connor saw his executive assistant, Lorena, speaking to three men he didn’t recognize and one he did: Thomas Sharp, national security adviser and a former deputy director of Division.

Sharp pushed past Lorena and made his way through the gawking crowd to Connor’s side. “You’ve gone too far this time,” he said, loud enough for all to hear. “I’ve been on the horn with CENTCOM for the past hour. They were pretty damned curious about why I wasn’t in the loop on this op. You didn’t think they’d give me a call?”

“Frankly, Tom, I didn’t give a shit. If I’d wanted your opinion on the matter, I would have told you myself.”

Sharp rode out the insult like the professional he was. Tall, sleek, and cunning, he was the perfectly evolved bureaucratic animal. “Luckily,” he said coolly, and with a victor’s confidence, “Mr. Erskine felt differently.”

“Mr. Erskine?” Connor shot Erskine an incredulous glance, but Erskine refused to meet his gaze. “Peter called you?”

Sharp stepped closer, moving in for the kill. “You suspected Ashok Balfour Armitraj was trafficking a WMD-one of our own cruise missiles, no less-and you didn’t see fit to inform me, or anyone else, for that matter. Are you out of your mind?”

“It was time-critical intel. I didn’t tell you or the boys at the Pentagon because you would have screwed the pooch.”

“How long have you known about this?”

“Days. A week, tops.”

“Mr. Erskine said it’s been two weeks.”

“Two weeks since we began working the lead. If you want to get out the stopwatch, we only got confirmation that he has the thing a few hours ago.”

“So you have proof that this weapon exists?” asked Sharp.

“The proof is in that hangar.”

“Two weeks. And you sent in a rank amateur who hasn’t even received an official security clearance to do the job?”

“It’s that rank amateur who got us the information about where the exchange was taking place.”

“Who is this man Ransom, anyway?”

“A doctor we’ve used in the past to help us execute our operations.”

“A doctor? Well, I’m glad he’s had some formal training, even if it has nothing to do with covert activities. Where is he now? I’d like to speak with him.”

“I don’t know,” said Connor. “He tried to contact me several hours ago, but the connection was broken.”

Sharp took a step back, hands on his hips, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ, Frank, you’re not just off the reservation, you’ve left the entire planet. I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Then don’t.” Connor turned away from Sharp, despising him. “Just shut up and wait with the rest of us.”

Five minutes passed, and Connor spoke to the commander again. “Can you get in there yet?”

“Not a chance. The whole damned hangar collapsed. There’s enough ammo to arm a Marine division in there, and all of it’s cooking off. It’s raining shrapnel out here. No one’s going near the place until it stops.”

“And Sultan Haq?”

“Sir, no one got out of there but my men. If Haq was in there when it went up, he’s in there now.”

Connor looked at Sharp. “The bomb is in there,” he said. “We had a visual confirmation.”

“You saw it with your own eyes, did you?”

“We saw the crate it was packed in.”

“The crate?” Sharp’s skepticism was apparent.

“Yeah. What do you think-they carry it around on their belt like a BlackBerry?”

“For your sake, I hope so, Frank. But this looks like it’s going to take a while to clear. In the meantime, you’re removed from your post. President’s orders. These men are federal marshals. They’re here to escort you from the premises and take you to your home, where you are to consider yourself under house arrest until further notice.”

With disbelief, Connor looked over Sharp’s shoulder at the two men behind him. “House arrest? On what charges?”

“Gross dereliction of duty, for one,” said Sharp. “Also, a man named James Malloy was found murdered in his home last night. I understand you paid him a visit the other night. I’m sure we’re going to find plenty more violations as soon as you tell us exactly what you’ve been up to.”

Connor pointed at the screen. “There is a WMD in that building.”

“If it’s there, we’ll find it.”

“I have an operator on-site. Her name is Danni Pine. I want to talk to her.”

“One of ours?”

“Mossad.”

“Another irregular? Good to know. I’ll see that we get in touch with her immediately.”

A marshal approached, and Connor backed away. “I need to know if Ransom is all right. We’ve got to get him out.”

“I will be sure to ask her,” said Sharp. “It’s over, Frank. You’re done. Goodbye.”

A marshal took Connor’s arm. “This way, sir.”

Connor held his head high as he was led out of the building.

“I’m sorry,” said Peter Erskine. “You left me no choice.”

Jonathan and Danni commando-crawled one hundred meters to the safety of the repair shed where the troops had staged before the raid. The air continued to thunder with exploding mortars, artillery shells, grenades, and bullets, the tarmac shuddering with each blast. A mountain of smoke rose into the sky. But all Jonathan saw was the image of the jeeps driving at full speed away from the hangar. Winded, he stood and rushed to find the nearest soldier.

“I need to speak to your commanding officer,” he said. “It’s an emergency. I may have seen Haq driving away from the hangar.”

A Pakistani soldier crouched on a knee before him, one hand on his helmet. “That would be Major Nichols,” he said, looking around and not seeing him. The soldier hailed Nichols over his radio and passed along Jonathan’s message. “He’s coming around the hangar-he’ll be here as quickly as possible.”

Two minutes passed, and a soldier approached from the left, running, his head down.

“I’m Nichols,” the man said. He was Delta Force all the way. The beard, the Oakley sunglasses, the neck thicker than an oak. “Who are you?”

“Ransom. I work for the government. I was with Balfour. Listen to me, the man you’re looking for is-”

“Hold it!” Nichols raised a hand for Jonathan to shut up. “You’re Jonathan Ransom? And you, lady, you’re Pine?”

Danni nodded.

“You’re both to come with me. I’ve been ordered to take you into custody.”

“Custody?” said Danni warily. “What for?”

Major Nichols consulted a scrap of paper in his hand. “I’m to tell you that Frank Connor has been removed from his position as director of Division. Pending a debriefing and investigation, you’re to consider yourselves under military confinement.”