Page 54 of Nightstalker

“The fuck?”

“Hello Ghost. I see you are still the uncouth, wild animal you always were.”

“Yeah, that’s me, uncouth. Better to be that than a sell out and a mother fucking traitor. You will bleed for this, asshole. I am going to tear your ass apart.”

“You’ll be dead, Ghost. Your threats are so meaningless, I couldn’t care less.”

Chapter Twenty Two

Jasmin

I was pacing again. We were missing it. That one piece of the puzzle that ties everything together. Reports, maps, and pictures were spread out all over the table. Five screens were active with intel, live drone footage of known locations for Sonreír.

The Director was clean. Eric had picked apart every piece of his life and had to begrudgingly admit it. As much as Eric hated the man, the Director had no involvement. That was both good and bad. He was not the traitor, but we were no closer to finding out who was.

Timothy Clark was stupid but he covered his tracks and did it well. There was no electronic footprint. As in none. He was also in the wind. Just up and vanished. An analyst with no previous military training did not have the capability to go to ground without help.

“Garrett, what do we have on the Deputy Director?” I asked

“Give me a minute to pull up what we have, I am sending it to ViCom screen six. I will need about ten minutes to dig deeper.”

Garrett’s voice filled the room through the speaker phone. The information that Garrett promised popped up on the screen.

“What are you thinking Jasmin?” Leo asked.

“I’m not sure. If the Director is clean, it has to be someone who is high enough in rank to have access to our mission reports. We are given a lot of leeway when we go black. As much as each of us hates to admit it, we still work for the CIA. Even though our pay checks do not come from them, they still pull the strings, handing over the ops that they could not touch.” I stopped to gather my thoughts for a moment, “Who has knowledge of our operations?”

“Mother Fucker!” That was Garrett, “Mr. President, may I ask you to clear the room of any agents, sir?”

“Everyone out.” The President barked.

“Yes, sir, we will be out in the hall.”

“Tom, you might want to step out of the room as well. Plausible deniability and all that bullshit. You might not want to hear what Garrett has to say if he has asked for a clean room.” Zane was right. My uncle did not need to be involved in this. If it went south he could lose the Presidency and face a congressional hearing. Not good.

Tom cleared his throat. “I am going to say this once and once only, so listen up boys and listen closely.” My uncle’s voice was low and menacing, “I am an American first. I do not deny shit. I will never back down or cower away from anyone. I am an uncle second. I have Jasmin’s back one hundred percent and by extension all of yours. I am also the God damn President of these here United States and if there is a traitor in my ranks, I will hang him by his balls. I will not have cowardly men under me. End of story. You find me that God damn traitor and eliminate the problem with extreme prejudice. Are we clear?”

Holy shitballs, my uncle the badass. Who knew? All the men in the room looked at him with a newfound respect. The kind of respect that was normally reserved for only each other. Hell yeah!

“Crystal, sir.” Zane’s lips twitched, trying to hold back a grin.

Then the room exploded. There was a flurry of commotion as each man jumped into action, moving reports and maps clearing space on the white board for new intel.

“Garrett, you are good to go. ViCom one is ready.”

There where sixteen Visual Communication, ViCom, screens in the room. ViCom one was the largest center screen.

“Brace, this shit is whacked.” Garrett warned just as the screen filled with an image.

Sweet Jesus it was the deputy director’s wife and three small children all tied to chairs. The deputy director’s wife looked like she had been worked over. She had a black eye and cut lip, a smiley face burned on her cheek. A newspaper was sitting on her lap, proof of life. This just got worse. Way worse.

“What in the ever loving fuck? How in the hell does this shit go unnoticed? Mother FUCK!” Zane roared.

“What is the date on that image?” Leo inquired.

“Forty six days ago.”

“The fuck you say, forty six…” Zane trailed off.