Killing Game (Veritas Book 2) (22 page)

Chapter Thirty-One

From the moment they’d heard the blast, felt the ground shudder underneath them, Susan had feared she’d lost them all. It’d been even worse after she’d learned that Patti had vanished. She knew the girl hadn’t taken off on her own, and eventually that had been confirmed when one of the wounded women told them what had happened to the teen. Now, as she ended the call with someone named Morgan at Veritas, Susan sagged in relief, far closer to tears than she had been in a long time. Ellers was dead and so was his nephew. Patti had been rescued and the explosives were history. Cait and Brannon were unharmed and Atlanta was safe.

“Susan?” Preston asked. “What’s happened? What was that explosion?”

She smiled at those crowded around her. Her eyes sought out Rafferty, the man who’d taken a huge gamble on their behalf. “That was the sound of true freedom,” she murmured.

Then she told them what had happened, and there were cheers—at least from the campers. For some of those in the compound, the news was sobering.

“Now what?” Rafferty asked.

“Now we pick up the pieces and start over,” she said.

*~*~*

Susan took a deep breath, issued a silent prayer, and waited as the advance team walked up the path toward the compound. Behind her were Ellers’s people, and they were still armed. She hadn’t expected to go any other way: Their leader had taught them that trust came at a high price, often one involving the death of a loved one. Now it was Susan’s job to convince the FBI to treat them like victims, not enemies.

She walked out the front gates of the compound, holding up her badge, trying not to shake. The lives of so many people depended on her, and that scared the hell out of her. One wrong word, one wrong move, and this place could descend into a war zone. The advance team halted as she approached. They were all in tactical gear, except for one. A familiar face smiled back at her.

“Britelli,” she said, nodding at her partner.

“Driscoll. Good to see you in one piece.”

Joseph Britelli was a second-generation Italian and the best partner she’d ever had. The fact that he was here gave her hope.

An older black man stepped forward. “I’m Special Agent McDonald from the D.C. office. What’s the situation here?”

“You know about the shootings?” The man nodded. “And that Ellers is dead?” Another nod. “The current situation is volatile. We have multiple wounded, some dead. These people were ambushed by their own leader. Right now, they wouldn’t trust God Himself if He came down in a flaming chariot.”

The agent blinked.

“So this can go bad in a heartbeat,” she continued, “as in Waco or Ruby Ridge bad, if you get my meaning.”

The agent nodded curtly. “So what do you suggest?”

“We send in the medical team first so they can treat the wounded, evacuate them. While they’re doing that, you, Britelli, and I will talk to the folks who are in charge of this group. I think that if we do this carefully no one else has to die.”

McDonald raised an eyebrow. “How do I know they won’t come down on us the moment we’re in there?”

“The fact that they have wounded family members. I’m not saying we shouldn’t stay vigilant, because there might be one hothead in there somewhere, but the rest of them are scared out of their minds. They’ve watched their husbands, their wives, their kids die. They just want to get out of here.”

McDonald heaved a sigh. “What else did you promise them?”

She couldn’t stop the grin. “How do you know I did?”

“We’re not being shot at . . . yet.”

“I promised them I would do everything I could to ensure that they aren’t treated as felons. They got caught up in one man’s insane vision and they regret it.”

“They’ve broken a ton of federal laws,” one of the other agents grumbled.

“Yeah, they have. We’ve all been in a situation that went bad and had no idea how it got that way. I certainly have. These guys have too. They want a chance to start over.”

“They’ll have to be interviewed, and if there are any outstanding warrants—”

“They know that,” she cut in, though it was rude. She was too keyed up to be polite. “We have a chance to prove we are fair minded, not the brownshirts the militias keep claiming we are.”

McDonald ran a beefy hand through his cropped hair, thinking. “Okay, you got it. One shot and this is going Wild West, you understand?”

“Yes. I’ll go tell them.”

Susan walked back to the compound, her heart pounding and her throat dry. As she entered the front gates, she found every eye on her. She stopped in front of the group, raising her voice so she could be heard.

“They’re bringing in the medical team. You people keep it cool, they will do the same. If not, there’s going to be more blood spilled today. None of us want that.” She looked at Rafferty now and beckoned him to join her as she walked toward the makeshift hospital. “If there is anyone you think might want to start a war, corral them now.”

“Already done,” the man said.

She realized how much she owed this guy. “Thank you.”

As he walked back to join his people, she gave a thumbs-up to McDonald. He made a call on his radio and within a few minutes, the medical team descended on the compound. He and the others followed in their wake, on edge.

“Welcome to New America,” Susan said, eyeing the agent. “One man’s dream is another man’s nightmare.”

“Hell, isn’t that the truth. So where’s Hardegree? We’ve got a warrant for his arrest.”

Before she could tell him that she wasn’t exactly sure where the former Ranger was at the moment, McDonald’s phone rang. He answered, frowned, then gave an order. When he’d ended the call, he zeroed in on Susan.

“Seems our fugitive has just turned himself in down by the boats. Care to explain why he’s not inside the compound, under lock and key?”

“Because he and Caitlyn Landry were hunting Ellers. Since he was an Army Ranger, and she was a Marine, they had the best chance of stopping that bastard. And they did.”

The frown on McDonald’s face deepened. “You’re damned lucky Hardegree turned himself in.”

“I was willing to risk losing him if it kept those explosives away from Atlanta.”

He snorted. “So what we’ve heard about you is true—you don’t play by the rules.”

“Only when I have to,” Susan said, turning away.

*~*~*

As Cait and Brannon were escorted toward the compound, they met stretchers headed to the shoreline. It took three people to handle each stretcher—two to carry the victim, and one for the IV bags. At the waterline, the victim was raised into a hovering chopper via a Stokes basket to be treated by emergency personnel on board. Once the chopper was loaded, it would fly off and another would move in.

“Gotta give them one thing, they know how to handle mass casualties,” Cait said.

“Probably learned it from us. We’re the experts,” Brannon said. He walked just ahead of Patti and her, handcuffed and flanked by two agents.

Patti nudged Cait. “They have to let him go. Right?”

The optimism of the young. The teen hadn’t yet learned that bureaucracy had its own brand of cynicism that often crushed the good along with the bad. “We’ll see,” Cait replied.

As they entered the compound, the area in front of them was full of people. Some had a few possessions at their feet, awaiting relocation, others had gathered near their wounded, watching as they received medical treatment. One young woman wept as she cradled a man, most likely her husband. From the stark grief on her face, she was now a widow.

Susan stood in the middle of a group of heavily armed men. She looked exhausted, which was pretty much the norm for all of them. Rafferty was next to her, arguing with one of the agents about something.

Susan turned toward them as they approached. “Special Agent McDonald,” she said, gesturing at Cait and Brannon now. “These are the folks who took Ellers down.”

Five sets of solemn eyes studied them.

“You sure he’s dead?” McDonald asked. He didn’t look like he put up with any shit.

“Very dead,” Cait replied.

“I hear he stole a Park Service helicopter. Pilot dead, too?”

“No, it was Ellers’s nephew flying the chopper when it blew.”

“And just how did it blow up?”

“A bullet just happened to hit a barrel of Tannerite.”

“Your bullet?” the man asked.

She smiled. “Nope, it was Ellers’s. Which proves that karma really does work.”

That remark seemed to confuse the agent. “We’ll get into that later. Lock Hardegree up,” he said to the two agents holding Brannon. “I don’t want him wandering off again.”

Somehow, Susan kept her face neutral, though clearly that had been a slap in her direction.

Brannon looked back at Cait. “Keep those home fires burning, okay?”

“Always.”

As he was led away, Susan pulled Cait away from the others. “I’ll make sure my report details everything he did for us.”

“Will it make any difference?”

“I don’t know. Veritas has a lot of clout. I’m hoping it’s enough in this case.”

And if not
 . . . “How hard is it to break someone out of federal prison?” Cait asked.

The agent started at the question. “Please promise me you’re joking.” Cait walked away without replying. She knew better than to make a promise she might not keep.

She found the other campers in the mess hall, drinking coffee, listening to Patti tell them about Ellers and James and the helicopter explosion. Patti had just gotten to the crucial part where everything was about to blow up when the others noticed Cait. They descended on her in a flood, sharing backslaps and smiles. Even Keith hugged her.

She sat between Bill and Patti. Preston and Keith were on the other side of the table.

“When we heard that explosion. I was afraid I’d never see you guys again,” Bill said.

“We got lucky. And we had some help.”
From a hardass named Neil.

“What are they going to do with Brannon?” Keith asked. “I saw them hauling him off in cuffs.”

“I have no idea,” she admitted.

“He was really undercover?” Preston asked.

“Yes. Had me fooled for a while,” Cait said. Without asking, Patti brought her coffee and a slice of pie. It was apple. Realizing it’d been some time since she’d eaten, Cait demolished it in a few bites.

“Another slice?” Patti said.

“No, that’s okay. Thanks.” She looked over at the others now. “Brannon will need all the support he can get.”

“He’s got it,” Keith said. Nods came from the rest. “We’ll make sure to tell the FBI everything that happened, what he did for all of us.”

It was good to hear that they were on the Ranger’s side. He’d taken tremendous personal risks and never fallen short of his duty. He deserved his freedom and the recognition that came with such a dangerous mission.

But more than that, she knew he’d rescued her. Now it was time for her to do the same for him.

*~*~*

It was late in the afternoon when the moment that Brannon had been dreading finally arrived. Transportation to Jacksonville had been arranged so he could face charges related to the armed robbery. Cait and the others were being sent to Atlanta for a “debriefing.”

This might be the last time he’d ever see her, at least until his trial. He didn’t know how she did it, but Susan made sure they had some time with each other right before he left. Even though they weren’t somewhere private, he hooked his arms around Cait, pulling her close, the handcuffs still in place.

“Don’t let the darkness gain any ground,” he whispered. “You beat it back and keep it there. You’re too special to lose, Caitlyn.”

She looked up at him, her rust-brown eyes damp. “I owe you my life,” she whispered. “You saved me.”

“That saving went both ways, honey.”

“Not from where I’m standing.”

“Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

Brannon kissed her, savoring the moment, fearing he’d never do this again. Then he reluctantly let her go.

Looking over at the disgruntled FBI agent, who clearly saw this emotional display as a waste of time, he gave a nod.

“Let’s get this done.”

As he walked out of the gates, he looked back over his shoulder. The other campers were lined up. Patti was crying. Susan looked resigned. He didn’t fault her, she’d done her best for him.

“Rangers lead the way!” Cait shouted, giving him a thumbs-up.

“Semper Fi!” he called back.

Then he saw the tears on her cheeks and he knew his heart would always belong to her.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Monday, April 20th

Eastern Kentucky

It had been over two days since she’d last seen Brannon, last been kissed by him. During that time, Cait had slept, eaten a few meals, downed a lot of Advil, and endured endless “debriefings.” The others on the tour had been questioned and sent home, but not her. To her surprise, she’d heard that Brannon had been transferred to Atlanta, so for all she knew, he could even be in the same building as her. She knew better than to ask to see him.

His transfer meant that she now had a lawyer sitting in the meetings with her, a woman from Veritas. Apparently, Morgan Blake was formerly with the FBI, but that didn’t seem to help in this case. Cait liked her instantly—she was solidly in Brannon’s corner and that meant she was good people.

The problem was Special Agent in Charge Maxine Rhodes, the head of the Atlanta FBI office. A woman in her early fifties, with graying hair and no sense of humor, she came at Cait like a pissed-off hornet. Rhodes kept picking at Cait’s testimony like a small kid worries a bandage, apparently hoping to find something to use against Brannon. That put her on Cait’s enemy list.

Rhodes’s attitude hadn’t improved with all the increased pressure. Not only was Veritas pushing for Brannon’s release, but it also seemed that Cait’s call to her dad had led to certain Army brass expressing their “concerns”. Loudly. Brass was always good at that. It appeared that First Lieutenant Brannon Hardegree had a lot of admirers, and they were all trying to free him.

Cait’s latest session with the FBI included not only Morgan, who’d informed her she was licensed to practice law in Georgia, but Agent Britelli. Susan had been nowhere to be seen, apparently on some sort of “leave.” The way Britelli had said the word, it sounded like only one step down from being sent to the Gulag.

“How do we know it wasn’t you who disabled Montgomery’s car instead of James Gray? That way you could lead the tour group instead of him,” Rhodes said. She was in one of her usual power suits and looked as tired as the rest of them.

This was a new tactic, directly implicating Cait in Ellers’s activities, and she knew it was pure bull. “Why would I try to harm my former commanding officer, a man I deeply respect?”

“For a share of the robbery money and a chance to meet Quinton Ellers.”

Morgan rolled her eyes. “My client had no contact with Hardegree before the tour. Neither has she had contact with any of the domestic militias.”

Cait appreciated the backup, but she didn’t really need it. Rhodes was blowing smoke and they all knew it. Luckily, Cait was The Major’s daughter, and he’d taught her the skills needed to deal with prickly bureaucrats, whether civilian or military.

Leaning forward, she frowned. “I’ve given you everything I know about Ellers’s operation and Brannon’s role in bringing him down. I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to have Ellers do a perp walk in front of the news cameras, but it was either kill him or let him blow up a bunch of innocent folks
in your city
. So which of those do you think is more important: your resume, or the fact that Atlanta a war zone?”

Agent Britelli made a strangled noise.

Her face crimson, Rhodes waved at Morgan. “Get her out of here. I have Hardegree. He’s all I need. But if I find your stories don’t match
exactly
, you’re coming back and we’ll be charging you with obstruction.”

“Understood. Brannon and I are
not
the enemy, ma’am. You need to remember that.”

Once she and Morgan were at the exit leading to the parking lot, Cait swore, fearing she’d pushed too hard. “Damn, maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Morgan tossed her a set of keys. They were to her Jeep. “Your ride is in the parking lot. We had it driven up for you.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that. I’ll get a hotel room somewhere. I don’t want to leave Bran, have him think I walked out on him.”

“He won’t. He asked me to make arrangements for you. In your car, you’ll find the directions to his cabin in Kentucky, along with the house keys and the alarm code. He wants you to wait for him there.”

“But—”

Morgan was already shaking her head. “Brannon will worry less if he knows you’re somewhere safe. And
quiet
.”

Just how much had he told this woman about her PTSD? Maybe more than Cait would have wished. She looked up at the ceiling, trying to decide.

Morgan pressed her advantage. “He’s worried about you. If he knows you’re okay, it’ll help him stay focused through this hell.”

The guilt worked. “All right. Remind him that he promised me a weekend in a fancy hotel.”

“I’ll do that. Now go on before Rhodes changes her mind. Oh, and text me when you’re settled up there. Brannon will want to know you’re safe. He’ll plague me until I tell him that.”

That brought a faint smile, as it sounded like him. “I’ll let you know. Send my thanks to your boss. I owe him one.”

“I will,” Morgan replied. “Who knows, maybe someday he’ll need to collect on that gratitude.”

“Just let me know when and where. I’ll be there.”

As the doors closed behind her, Cait breathed in the warm April air, but still shivered. Leaving Brannon behind felt wrong, but she would do what he asked, if only for his peace of mind. She prayed it wasn’t a mistake that she’d regret for the rest of her life.

*~*~*

Wednesday, April 22nd

FBI Atlanta Field Office

Brannon shifted his weight in the chair. He was about to endure yet another round of questioning. The transfers back and forth from lockup to the FBI office were getting old, especially sometimes when they made sure the handcuffs were a little too tight. Messing with his head, hoping to get him to crack. It wasn’t working. After what he’d endured to become a Ranger, this was kindergarten stuff. But he knew that thirty years in prison wouldn’t be.

Morgan took a seat next to him. His friend had been there for every interrogation, no matter how long it took. She’d remained positive, but not ceded any ground to the FBI. They’d found Valkyrie a tough opponent.

“Any news from Caitlyn?” he asked.

“She said to tell you she loves the cabin, and she’s going to stay put until you show up,” she replied. “She’s been calling folks, as well. Her dad has rattled some cages at the Pentagon, no less.”

“I can imagine. I’ve heard The Major is pretty formidable. Like our boss.” He laid his hands on the table, still in handcuffs. “I’m glad she went to the cabin. It’ll be good for her. She can recharge there, not lose any ground.”

Something in his tone made Morgan look up. “How bad was she?”

“She planned on dying along with Ellers. Something stopped her from taking that final step.”

“That something being you,” his friend replied. It hadn’t been a question.

“Yes. I almost lost her. You know what that’s like.”

Morgan nodded. “But you didn’t. Now we just need to get you out of here.”

“What are our chances?”

“The longer it goes, the better.”

That was just the opposite than what he’d figured. In fact, Brannon’s hope had dimmed with each passing day. His birthday had been celebrated in jail. One of the agents in Jacksonville had found it amusing to give him a dry donut out of the vending machine, minus a candle. His parents were freaking out, but so far, his father hadn’t made the trip up from Florida. Apparently, Morgan had talked to him and assured him that his son’s legal needs were being met. Crispin had called them too, and that had made all the difference. There was no doubt that Brannon trusted Morgan and Veritas, but his nerves were starting to wear thin. This felt more like a personal vendetta than anything.

The door to the room opened, but this time it was just Britelli, no sign of the office’s head honcho. Brannon tried not to read anything into that. The agent laid out his notes, then looked up from them. His tie was loosened and he looked as tired as they were.

“Based on some of your information,” he began, “this afternoon we arrested Ellers’s Atlanta contact, a Mr. Wiley Davis. The raid on the man’s apartment got us the commander’s
detailed
plans, including maps of each of the proposed bomb sites.”

“What was he going to hit?” Brannon asked.

“One of our federal buildings, to start with. Apparently that was to have been Ellers’s homage to the McVeigh bombing.” Britelli grimaced. “The barrels of Tannerite and the grenades were headed for a downtown music festival. There would have been upwards of twenty thousand people there, so God knows how many deaths and injuries he would have caused.”

“And the ricin?” Morgan asked.

“It was to be put in the iced tea at a Women in Law Enforcement Conference luncheon. I’m sure all two hundred of the attendees would have just loved that.”

“Oh my God,” Brannon murmured.

“Yeah. We dodged a massive bullet here.” Britelli grinned at this point, which made Brannon wonder what the guy knew that he wasn’t sharing.

“About an hour ago, my boss received a call from the deputy director himself. We’ve been advised that we are to drop all charges against you.” Britelli’s grin widened now. “It seems our office was unaware that you were working undercover for the D.C. office. But since you had been instructed
not to tell anyone
of your involvement, it wasn’t surprising that we were out of the loop.”

It took a moment for the agent’s words to sink in.

The charges were dropped?
Crispin Wilder must have called in a megaton of favors on Brannon’s behalf. How would he ever repay the man? After a quick glance at Morgan, Brannon made sure not to smile, as if this was exactly how it’d been planned.

“I see. Good that got cleared up then,” he said. Beside him, his friend nearly levitated with joy.

“Yes, I thought so too,” the agent replied, smirking. “My partner was particularly happy to hear the news. Our boss? Not so much.”

Morgan stifled a laugh.

“What’s happening with Agent Driscoll?”

Britelli’s grin vanished. “She’s on leave right now. There’re some internal issues to work out. I’m hoping they get resolved soon.”

“She made all the right calls. If she hadn’t, the FBI would be facing a congressional investigation as to why they were involved in a firefight in the swamp. And why they let a terrorist go free.”

“I know that. D.C. knows that. Other people are not so . . . understanding.”

Brannon growled. “They need to be. She’s one helluva agent.”

“Amen to that,” her partner replied. He pushed the handcuff keys across the table to Morgan so she could do the honors.

“Since you’re no longer under arrest, we’d like whatever else you can tell us about Ellers’s organization,” the man continued. “The contacts you made while you were undercover and on the militia boards. We’d like to track down the rest of his crew and get them behind bars before they decide to blow something up in retaliation for their leader’s fiery demise.” He looked up. “A fiery demise that I totally applaud, by the way.”

Nodding his understanding, Brannon shoved the key and the handcuffs in the agent’s direction. “What do you guys need to know?”