They'll Call It Treason (14 page)

January 29 at 8:35
p.m.
EST

Springfield, VA – Home of Richard Hunt

“Mary, could you pass the gravy?” Richard asked his youngest daughter. Mary’s long, brown braid dangled down the back of the chair next to Richard, swinging gently as she passed the gravy bowl.

She gave him one of her whopping smiles when he took the bowl, showing a gap left by two missing baby teeth. Richard had helped pull the first of them earlier in the week.  She had cried, so frightened that it would hurt, until she realized it was nearly painless.  He couldn’t help but smile tenderly now at the pride she held in her achievement.

“Thank you, dear.”

“You’re welcome, Daddy!” Mary giggled happily.

He exchanged knowing smiles across the table with his wife, Sarah—a short, plump lady five years his junior, with deep brown eyes and short, greying hair.

To his surprise, Megan, Richard’s eldest daughter, had graced them with her presence. A junior in high school, she rarely put in an appearance these days.  She was usually out “studying” with friends, or if home, ensconced in her room, shunning the indignity of family togetherness. Tonight Megan sat to his right, silently nibbling away at the sliced turkey on her plate.

Their relationship had grown strained. Richard did not approve of her short skirts, low cut tops or even her choice in friends. It seemed the more barriers he put in place the more she pushed the envelope of his patience. He remembered how reckless he had been as a teenager and there were so many more ways to mess up these days. He loved her dearly—it was just hard to show it when the largest portion of his time with her consisted of exchanging icy goodbyes.

There was at least one thing they shared. Like his eldest daughter, Richard was not enthused about being at the table for dinner. It was Sarah who insisted on the tradition at least once every week, usually on the weekend. Richard preferred to take his meal to the living room and watch sports or the news, but Sarah put up with a lot and asked for so little; he felt he owed it to her.

As he poured the gravy over his last slice of turkey, his cell phone vibrated at his side. He waited and put down the bowl. Only one vibration: a text message.

He retrieved his phone from its leather case and unlocked the screen. Without looking he could feel the disapproving expression on his wife’s face from across the table. It was a text from Aran.

Call me. We may have a lead.

Richard raised his phone, “I’ve got to call the office, dear.”

Sarah huffed and rolled her eyes. Richard silently thanked Aran and left the table. He walked down the hall and into his study before dialing. He took a seat behind his desk as the phone rang.

So far the leads had all seemed to fizzle. A lot of scared or overzealous citizens in Georgia calling in every silver sedan they saw on the road, but nothing concrete. He needed good news.

“Sir,” Aran answered the phone, “I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“What do you have?” Richard did not bother to thank Aran for pulling him away from the silence of the dinner table.

“First, we still don’t have any leads on Agent Whitaker or Doctor Connors,” Aran explained. “After our agents lost Gray on his way to Greensboro we’ve not been able to pick up his trail again. We’re not even sure he went to Greensboro.”

Richard dropped his chin and sighed.

“We also cannot get a lock on any of their cell phones. It's safe to say they've probably picked up some temporary pre-paid phones. So we cannot use that avenue to track them.”

“You said you had a lead, Aran. What is it?” Richard complained. “I need good news, not more dead ends.”

“I do, sir. About forty minutes ago we got a hit on the license plate for Ethan's last known vehicle at a convenience store. It seemed like a long shot, but we got a hold of the security cameras. The tags match; it’s him, sir.”

Richard brightened.  “Where was he?”

“Black Mountain, North Carolina.”

“What?  That’s nowhere near Rockingham.”

Aran paused for a moment.  “That’s right, sir.  He’s halfway across the state from where we’ve been searching.”

“Dammit!” They had been tricked. Shaw had used a fake location on the phone call to his fiancée. That was always a possibility, but without more to go on, they’d had no choice but to follow the lead.  The Bureau’s resources had concentrated on the false lead while Shaw moved well out of the search range.

“He threw us off the trail. Not bad.” For a moment, Richard almost admired Shaw’s strategic forethought. “So do we know where he is now?”

“No sir,” Aran informed the Director. “We’ve moved the center of our search to Black Mountain.  We’re covering everything within a hundred-mile radius of the last known sighting. It’s mostly trees and wildlife out there, so the drones should be able to find him quickly.”

“The population may be less dense, but there are a lot of places to hide if you really don’t want to be found,” Richard countered. “Keep the drones flying.  I want him located by morning.”

“Yes, sir.” Aran paused and then added, more carefully, “One more thing, sir.”

“Yes?”

“Agents Austin Conway and Dante Mercer left their field office this afternoon. Conway had not yet been through questioning.  They didn’t tell anyone where they were going.”  Aran cleared his throat. “We think they may be on their way to meet with Agent Shaw.”

Richard sighed.
Could it get any worse?

“Is everyone losing their damn minds?” Richard ranted.

“We have drones searching for them, and eyes on the highways and CCTV cameras, sir.” Aran reassured him.

“That’ll have to do. Keep me posted.”

Richard ended the call and placed his cell on the desk in front of him. He leaned back into the comfort of his black leather desk chair. They still had a long way to go, but at least they now had something concrete.

January 29 at 11:35
p.m.
EST

Blowing Rock, NC

The highland road curved precariously over the mountain’s edge as the moonlight cast eerie shadows over the Blue Ridge Parkway. Ethan pushed past the speed limit as much as he dared.

To his left rose a giant rock face decorated with towering red spruce and barren hickory trunks. To his right, the mountain fell steeply. The tops of countless trees were visible for miles out and the clear, starry sky sparkled above.

Ethan tried not to look over the side of the mountain. Each time his eyes strayed, he imagined the car plummeting over the edge, crashing to a deadly halt hundreds of feet below.

The cabin was only a few miles up the road. The closer he got, the more anxious he grew.  Had Gray understood his message? Did he remember the cabin?  The thoughts kept running through his head.

Over the past two years Ethan had neglected the cabin. He believed Gray had used it once for a weekend getaway, but otherwise it sat alone, unused. He wondered how long they would have in the mountains before the Bureau found them. It would only be a matter of time before they checked in to his decommissioned alias. Once that happened, their time in the mountains would be short-lived.

Around the bend Ethan spotted headlights approaching. They soon rocketed past him in the other direction. It was the first car he had encountered on the Parkway for at least half an hour. He liked it better that way— fewer eyes to worry about.

Oaks and hickory trees began to spring up on both sides of the road. The landscape to his right gently rose and gave way to more towering forestry. He was getting close. Only a mile or two to go. He increased his speed.

Throughout the drive, he had tried to keep his mind off Kate.  He knew the more he thought of her, the more he would worry, and he couldn’t afford to become paralyzed by such thoughts. But it was impossible to push them entirely aside. He needed to know she was safe. He needed to see her, to hold her in his arms.

A break in the trees ahead revealed the entrance to the cabin. Ethan gently applied the brakes and made the turn. His headlights lit up the two gravel paths and strip of tall grass between them that passed for a driveway. A haphazard wooden fence lined the left side of the path. 

Unsure of what to expect, he cut the headlights. If the Bureau had already tracked down his alias they could be a step ahead of him, just down the gravel path. Cautiously, he guided the car under the natural tunnel of trees.   Nearing a break in the trees, Ethan caught sight of the cabin. In the dark he could faintly make out the logs that fashioned the walls. An ashen stone chimney stack jutted from the northern face just above the steep, tin roofline. As he drew nearer, the modest porch took form; lined with waist-high wooden railing extending the length of the small cabin. It was rugged— just the way it ought to be, Ethan had always said.

The windows were covered by plain, thick drapes on the inside which obscured the interior from view. The lights were off. Ethan was unsure whether that should worry him.

Fifty yards west of the cabin stood a large shed. As the realtor had said, it was technically a barn, but Ethan figured with no livestock the name was simply not fitting. In front of the cabin Ethan spotted Dante’s Camaro. Its black stripes and white body made it hard to miss, especially out here.

He stopped the Nissan next to the modern hot-rod and placed his forehead on the steering wheel. He willed himself to get out, suddenly apprehensive. What if it was all a ruse, a clever ploy for the Bureau to apprehend him?

It’s okay, Ethan, everything is fine.

Ethan rallied his courage with a couple of deep breaths, raised his head and cut the engine.  Even if it was Dante inside waiting for him, Ethan knew he would have to tread carefully. Dante did not know the car Ethan would arrive in or when. The brute would likely be crouched somewhere in the dark, armed and dangerous.

Wary, Ethan opened the door and stepped out, placing his hand next to the Glock hidden just under his shirt. His heart beat faster as he stepped carefully forward.

Please be Gray.

He was almost to the stairs when a light flickered on inside the cabin, barely filtering out through the window drapes. Ethan froze. Two subdued
thunks
sounded from the cabin door before the knob twisted with a quiet rattle in the still night air. With creaks of protest from the old hinges the front door inched open. Ethan was not the only one playing it careful.

A large framed silhouette stepped out from behind the open door. Ethan’s adrenaline spiked as he realized it was not Gray. He snapped his pistol from its holster and aimed at the black portrait of a man.

“Whoa! Whoa,” a familiar voice bellowed. “Ethan, it’s me. Dante!”

Ethan did not budge, his pistol stubbornly pointed forward for what felt like minutes. He heard Dante, even recognized him, but his adrenal glands were so overworked that his body was slow to unclench.

Dante inched the door open, his free hand still outstretched above his head. He forced himself to ignore the pistol aimed straight at him as he stepped forward. “Ethan, it’s alright. It’s just Austin and me. We weren’t followed.”

Realizing he had been holding his breath since the door opened, Ethan exhaled and lowered his weapon. His head dropped. He looked back up to the porch where Austin now stood with Dante. Anxiety and bewilderment clouded their usually jovial expressions.

“I’m sorry, guys,” Ethan apologized, abashed that he had held his aim at Dante for so long.

“No need for that, man,” Austin reassured him as they met at the top of the stairs. “You’ve been through a lot.”

“Thanks for coming,” Ethan replied, holstering his weapon.

“We’re here for you, Ethan,” Dante assured him. Austin nodded in agreement. “Never thought I’d say this… but come on in the safe house!”

Ethan tried to smile as he walked into the familiar living space. A vaulted ceiling made the cramped living room feel roomy. Two old, used, couches took up most of the space, and a rocking chair sat next to the fireplace in the corner. Connected to the living room were a tiny, feebly equipped kitchen and two bedrooms.

Ethan took a seat on one of the couches. Dante and Austin sat opposite him on the other couch.

His friends appeared hesitant to open the conversation, so Ethan forced out the question he had been dreading. “Where are Kate and Gray?”

Austin’s eyes flicked to Dante and then back nervously. They had discussed what to tell Ethan on the way down. It had been an intense conversation.
Do we tell him Gray was going to have Kate come back with him to the FBI? That Gray had not listened?
No. Instead they had decided to tell another truth and leave out the rest.

Austin glanced at Dante before answering, his lips thin. “We don’t know.”

“He said he was going to meet Kate,” Dante broke in. “But, we’ve not heard from him yet.”

“We’ve been waiting for you for about an hour,” Dante continued, his usual buffoonish mannerisms still absent, his head lowered. “At first I didn’t believe you were innocent. I knew it didn’t make sense, you couldn’t have… But how could the Bureau be so wrong?”

Ethan nodded understandingly though it pained him.

“Then Austin here found a video that proved it wasn’t you,” Dante nodded toward Austin.

“A video?” Ethan jumped at the news. “Thank God! That’s what we need! Do you have it with you Austin?”

Austin dropped his eyes to the floor, angry at himself for not being quick enough to make a copy.

“No,” Austin lamented. “It’s gone. Just after I watched it, someone deleted the file. There wasn’t a trace left.
Someone
did not want that footage getting out.”

Ethan cursed under his breath angrily. Austin flinched back. An awkward silence followed as Ethan searched the bare wooden floor aimlessly, reeling his emotions in.

Austin cleared his throat and stood up. “Would you like something to eat, Ethan? Some soup, maybe?”

Eyes locked on the wooden floor, Ethan nodded. Minutes later, Austin returned with a steaming bowl of chicken noodle. Ethan ate slowly at first and then wolfed it down. He had not eaten since early morning. On the road, he had been too afraid to stop at any one place long enough to eat.  It had been the last thing on his mind anyway. Dante and Austin watched silently, respectfully holding their burning questions until he was almost finished.

“Ethan,” Dante started. “Who was the Agent that did this?”

Ethan took a few more gulps of warm liquid, his eyes still diverted to the floor. He could see Sean Abrams standing there with a smirk on his face in the CNN Center, his gun smoking.

“Sean Abrams,” Ethan said in disgust. “Agent Sean Abrams shot Jason in the back.” He tried to keep his voice steady but faltered. A tear slid down his cheek. The whites of his eyes had gone red, and his lips were tightly pursed.

“Jason didn’t want to go to Georgia. I convinced him to go.” Ethan paused, trying to hold back the sobs.  “On the way down, he told me he needed to spend more time with Kallie. He kept telling me we… that we had to...”

The words became harder. “That we had to get back by this evening because he… he had promised her he would spend the evening with her.”

Dante laid a hand on Ethan’s shoulder but remained silent. His insides felt like they were being twisted into each other as Ethan spoke of Jason.

“He’ll never get to keep that promise,” Ethan wept. “And it’s my fault.”

“No, Ethan,” Dante jumped in, his voice kind but stern. “It’s not your fault. There is no way you could have known this would happen. There’s just no way.”

Ethan nodded, but the guilt still pressed against his chest. He leaned back, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I have to find a way to prove my innocence and then I’m going to make Abrams pay for what he did.”

“We’ll find a way, Ethan. But right now you need to rest. We’ll stay up and watch for Gray and Kate,” Austin urged, not really believing the two would show up.

Ethan gave Austin a hard look. “I need to wait for them.”

“No Ethan, you need to rest,” Austin insisted. “You’ve gone through hell today, you’ve been on the road all day. You need to be alert tomorrow so we can figure out what to do next.”

“No,” Ethan countered, “I need to be up when she gets here. I need to know she’s alright.”

Dante placed a firm, but reassuring, hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “We can watch for her. We’ll let you know if we don’t hear from her soon, but you need to rest.”

Ethan lowered his eyes and let out a sigh. He grudgingly nodded, “Okay, but wake me when she gets here.”

“We will,” Austin assured him.

Reluctantly, Ethan got up and walked across the living room.

“Thanks for coming,” Ethan almost whispered as he walked into the bedroom. “I can't thank you enough.”