Brett Battles - Shadow of Betrayal Страница 29

“The arms dealer?” Quinn said. “Sure.”

Likharev, known in many places as the Merchant of Death, was a former Soviet officer turned gunrunner. Only he was distributing weapons on a scale no one had ever done before. He’d been captured in Southeast Asia, then deported back to the States to go on trial. A trial, as far as Quinn knew, that still hadn’t happened.

“Primus told the DDNI about a meeting Likharev was attending in Bangkok. Jackson gave it to the station chief at the embassy, and the next day Thai police had Likharev in custody.”

“Wait a minute,” Quinn said. “How long has he been passing on this kind of stuff? That was almost a year and a half ago.”

“It started just before that.”

“So when did the Deputy Director find out that Primus was LP?”

“Only two months ago.”

“And he didn’t break off contact immediately?” Quinn said.

“The information Primus passed on had all been good. Very reliable.”

“So fucking what?” Quinn said. “These are the same people who have been trying to dictate the way the country is run, to hell with what the rest of us think. At least that’s what you’ve told me. Didn’t any of you think maybe he was trying to get you to do the LP’s dirty work for them? Maybe they benefited from having Likharev out of the picture. Maybe everything Primus passed along helped their situation. Maybe he was using the Deputy Director. For God’s sake, Peter, didn’t anyone think of that?”

“Calm down,” Peter said, his own tone becoming angry. “First, I didn’t find out about it until just a week ago. Second, I had the same reaction as you. I confronted the DDNI with the ID of the assassin. I told him I thought the LP might be trying to stop Primus from passing along information. That’s when he told me Primus was LP. Jackson told me everything then. He said Primus had become disillusioned with the movement. But he also knew he couldn’t just get out. That’s not the way the LP works. So instead he started passing information he came across. Doing what he could to balance his personal scales, I guess.”

“When I met with him, he sounded like he was still very much part of the organization.”

“But he did tell you he was working on his own. You told me that.”

“It all sounds like bullshit to me.”

“Jackson didn’t believe him at first, either,” Peter said. “But Primus gained his trust with more good information.”

“Why did he tell Jackson at all?”

Peter took a breath. “He told Jackson pretty much the same thing he told you. That a group had approached the LP with a potential project, but that the LP had declined. But the project troubled him enough to keep tabs on it. Primus realized that something needed to be done, but that LP wasn’t going to make a move. He had already established a relationship with the DDNI, so decided to give him the info. But to convince the DDNI that what he was going to pass on was credible, he knew he had to come clean about who he worked for. He also knew the risk of exposure to his own people would increase, so he took steps to cover his tracks.”

If Ireland and what had happened at LACMA that afternoon were any indication, he hadn’t done a very good job.

“A turncoat in the LP,” Quinn said under his breath. It didn’t seem possible. These were the same people who had killed a friend of his. Hell, the same people who had destroyed Nate’s leg and forced him to use a prosthetic the rest of his life. “You believe he’s not just using us?”

“I’m not one hundred percent. I know caution is in order. But goddammit, Quinn, something’s going on. Something that people are trying to stop us from finding out. And if it has anything to do with the G8 meetings … they start the day after tomorrow, for Christ’s sake. We can’t just sit around and see if something happens.”

Quinn frowned. “Hold on,” he said.

He moved the phone away from his ear and tried to let his mind go blank for a second. He needed to clear away all the conflicting thoughts that were ramming against one another. Only then would he be able to truly assess the situation.

In the distance he could see a police helicopter circling above the Beverly Center. It wasn’t much more than a point of light, but he watched it go round and round several times before he brought the phone back up to his ear.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You will tell me everything you know,” Quinn said. “You will send me copies of any information you have. And you’ll do it right now.”

“So you’ll stay on it?” Peter asked.

“That was our deal, wasn’t it?” Quinn said. “But you need to know moving forward, whether my team and I continue is going to be a minute-to-minute decision.”

“Okay … okay. I can live with that. I … appreciate it.”

In the distance, the helicopter had moved off in search of trouble elsewhere.

“Talk,” Quinn said.

CHAPTER

24

PETER WAS TRUE TO HIS WORD, AND AS SOON AS HE had finished briefing Quinn on the phone, he uploaded everything he had to a secure FTP site. Quinn booted Nate off the laptop for a few moments so he could download and print out all the documents. Stack of paper in hand, he got out of Nate’s way and moved over to the kitchen counter.

Peter had done the same thing to Deputy Director Jackson that Quinn was doing to him, demanding everything the DDNI had from and about Primus. There was almost two years’ worth of material. Most was information passed on before Hardwick had revealed his LP ties. The information on the Odessa kidnapping was there, as was the tip about the arms dealer’s trip to Thailand. There were other things, too. Guerrilla cells in South America, money transfers between terrorist organizations, two potential assassination attempts.

Good stuff all, and a treasure trove that would make whoever possessed it look like a superstar. But from all Quinn could tell, the DDNI didn’t use any of his newly obtained knowledge to improve his position. Instead he acted on it, often passing tips to appropriate governments anonymously. No personal gain, just doing the job he was hired to do.

Quinn opened the refrigerator to grab a beer before diving into the stuff that was most relevant, the information concerning the group who had approached the LP.

“Can I have one of those?” Nate asked, looking up from the laptop.

“Depends. You get anything yet?” Quinn asked, already reaching for the second bottle.

“I think so,” Nate said. “At first I did all the basic searches. Public sites and that kind of stuff.”

Quinn set the bottles on the counter and popped the tops, letting Nate go over his process uninterrupted. It was the way Quinn had taught him to operate if time permitted. Quinn had said it was so that he’d be able to evaluate Nate’s progress. That had been true at first. But Quinn had come more and more to trust Nate’s abilities, so now it was just habit.

“I got a couple hits,” Nate went on. “But they were mostly about the state bird of Alabama. But I did find a Yellowhammer Lake in California.”

“That sounds promising,” Quinn said as he handed Nate a beer.

“Thanks,” Nate said. They both took a drink. “I thought so at first, too. But it’s remote. Yosemite area. You have to hike into it. So I thought I should keep digging.”

“Let me guess,” Quinn said. “Couldn’t find anything.”

“Close, but you’d be wrong. I came across a few odd entries that mentioned an actual place called Yellowhammer, and it didn’t seem like they were talking about a lake. The first was so random I thought someone must have mistyped it.”

“I’m guessing there’s a ‘but’ here.”

“Right,” Nate said. “The second one. It was on a blog that posts wartime letters. Some of them from as far back as the Revolution. I found another mention in one of the letters. It was dated near the end of World War II. Some guy writing home to his wife saying he’d been assigned to a place called Yellowhammer.” Nate turned to the computer. “I’ll read it to you.”

He clicked one of the tabs in his browser, then skimmed the text on the screen with his finger.

“‘They’re sending me to Yellowhammer until my time’s up. I finally get to go to California, I guess, but it’s so far from you. At least it’s only four months and then I’ll be home. I do wish I was there now.’ Goes on for a little while longer, but that’s the important part.”

“That could be anything,” Quinn said. “The military loves code names. Might not even be a place at all, but an operation.”

“I had the same thought.”

“Another ‘but’?”

Nate smiled. “Orlando’s been giving me tips for accessing some less public sources.”

“Skip the rundown, and tell me what you found.”

“There was a government facility, here in California, called Yellowhammer. The last mention of it was in the early sixties, a few months after the Cuban Missile Crisis. It was apparently decommissioned then.”

“Where exactly is it?”

“See, that’s the funny thing. I’ve found nothing on that anywhere. I found the name. I know it existed. I’m just trying to pinpoint it now.”

Quinn stared down at the laptop, not really looking at the words on the screen. A secret facility? A secret decommissioned facility? That didn’t make Quinn feel very good. But it jibed with Hardwick’s story.

“All right,” Quinn said. “Keep at it. Also send what you’ve found to Peter. Maybe he can use his resources to dig something up.”

“Yeah,” Nate said. “I was going to suggest that.”

“Were you?” Quinn said.

Nate brought up a window on the laptop that had been hidden. “I’ve got the email ready to go.”

Quinn was impressed, but kept his face blank. Once again, he had taken to underestimating Nate.

“Send it,” he said. “I’m going to go check on Orlando.” He picked up the papers from where he’d left them on the counter. “Don’t stay up all night. I have a feeling we’re going to be on the move tomorrow.” He paused as he was about to walk out. “Nate. Good work.”

Downstairs he found Orlando in the same position she’d been in when he’d watched her fall asleep. She didn’t even twitch as he sat beside her and checked her pulse. Steady and strong. By all accounts she was doing fine.

It should have made him happy, but he was pissed that she was in this condition at all. The LP had taken the leg of his apprentice the year before, and they had come within inches of paralyzing the woman he loved. Whether it was the LP behind the shootings or not didn’t really matter. They were involved, and that was enough. Those sons of bitches had screwed with Quinn too much. He only wished there was something he could do about it.

He took his beer and the papers out onto the small balcony off the back of his bedroom. There was a chair, and a table, with a light plugged in to a socket at the base of the wall. Often a gentle breeze would move through the hills, but tonight the air was still.

He took another swig of his beer, then dove in. Though there were dozens of pages, most were painfully short on details. The first half-dozen items had been email exchanges, each no more than two lines long. The final one arranged for a meeting where Primus promised to hand over tangible information. Looking at the log Peter had sent along, this meeting took place in Philadelphia three weeks before the Ireland disaster.

The tangible info turned out to be an initial tracking report on someone identified at the time simply as Alpha, but who Hardwick claimed was Leo Tucker. The document was very similar to the one Peter had passed on to Orlando while they were still back east, only a little lighter on details. There was also a note from Primus.

Director Jackson,

For some time now I have trusted you with data I thought could be useful to you. From what I’ve been able to learn, you have used that information to avoid many potential incidents that could have been damaging to both our country and our friends. You have on numerous occasions asked me to tell you how I have been able to know what I know. To this point I have resisted, thinking that the information I’ve already given you should be proof that I have the country’s best interests at heart.

But I find now I must answer your question, and trust that your reaction will not negatively affect our working relationship. I tell you this thing so you know that I have sources that are unavailable to you through any other channel, but can be very useful to you. And I tell you this because I now find myself at odds with the very reason I have access to those sources.

I am well aware of your personal fight against an organization known as the LP. I know this because I am a member of that organization. Now before you send your people in search of me, let me say that you will never find me. You will never discover who I am. And if I sense there is an attempt to find out my identity and/or take me into custody, you will never hear from me again. I’m sure this is not a condition you would welcome.

The information I have been giving you has been accurate and excellent. And the information I want to pass on to you now is the same.

It is your choice. Consider the accompanying data as an act of good faith. The person identified at this point as Alpha is an agent for an organization that has been in contact with the LP. They wanted our help, but we have declined. Still, they are pressing on. I feel it is vitally important that they are not allowed to succeed. I’m sure you will feel the same. If you choose to continue our relationship, I will spell out why I’m telling you who I work for, and why Alpha is important to you.

Please send your response via the new email address I’ve listed below.

Primus

Quinn read the letter twice. Peter had been right. The DDNI hadn’t known about Hardwick’s LP affiliation for more than a couple months. According to the log, the DDNI hired the Office two days later.

Made sense. While Deputy Director Jackson might have wanted to continue his relationship with Primus, he wasn’t stupid. He knew he’d need help, but because of his previous experience with the LP, he didn’t know who he could be sure of in his own organization. Tasha Douglas, of course, but beyond that he would be taking risks. The Office had been an obvious choice. Peter had proven his trustworthiness.

And when Peter suggested using Quinn to keep tabs on the next meeting, a meeting that for safety reasons was to take place outside the States in Ireland, it would have made sense to the DDNI. Quinn, after all, had been the one to stop the LP’s assassination attempt in Singapore the previous year.

The picture that emerged from the rest of the documents was nothing more than hints mixed with scant usable data. It was maddening. But not just to Quinn. He could see the DDNI’s own frustration in emails he’d sent to Primus.

This is moving too slow. You need to tell me everything instead of just giving it to me in bits.

But Hardwick wasn’t biting:

You can accept my information or we can stop now. But this will be by my timetable, not yours. If it gives you any comfort, I believe three more face-to-face meetings with my couriers should be sufficient.