Hunting Savage Read online

  Peter and Nadya shared the highlights with Jim. He waited to comment and ask questions until they were done. “We were able to connect that gunship to UA. The wreckage was badly burned, but we got a serial number from the frame. The assault team was mostly composed of mercenaries—ex-U.S. military. Although four bodies remain unidentified.”

  “That’s probably my team. They won’t show up in your databases.”

  “You sound pretty certain, Ms. Wheeler,” Jim said.

  “I am.”

  “Foreign agents acting on U.S. soil, attempting to murder an American. That will not go over well at the State Department.”

  Nadya understood the diplomatic fallout that was about to beset her government. She also recognized that Mossad might disavow her, or worse.

  “We have a theory,” Peter said, “that the Israeli Prime Minister and Congressman Schuman are plotting a pre-emptive attack on Iran.”

  “The Speaker would have to win the election first,” Jim said, sounding almost philosophical.

  “That’s obviously his plan, but we think he’s engineered a fail-safe. If Schuman succeeds in spearheading an override vote, and the Israeli Security Act becomes law, Congress will be forced to declare war on Iran when they retaliate. The Liberty case was, essentially, the blueprint. That’s why they were willing to commit murder to keep it secret.”

  “Lieutenant Lacey and Mona Stephens have put forward a similar theory, although they have yet to find any supporting evidence. What did Duss have to say?”

  “Nothing of value, really. And when I told him I was going to release the files to the public, he didn’t seem alarmed. If our theory is right, they’ll want to bury those files at least until the election is over.”

  “You have the files?” Jim asked.

  With all that had happened over the past days—from the near-death experience in the mountains to the kidnapping by Ellison’s men—Peter had not shared with Jim the thumb drive he’d hidden.

  “I’ll need that memory stick. Lacey and her team have been working to uncover who’s calling the shots.” Jim explained that Agent Barnes was an alias. Richard Nyden never was an FBI Agent. Furthermore, the mercenaries working for UA were known as the Guardians, and phone records from Nyden’s cell connected him to both Ellison and Angela Meyers.

  “That’s incredible,” Peter said. “You have a probable connection between Claude Duss and the Guardian’s terrorist actions.”

  “Yes, and that’s the problem. Nothing solid to connect Duss to any of this. Or to Schuman.”

  “Duss was there, at the test facility,” Nadya added. “Flew in just to question us is what Ellison said. That makes him an accessory to kidnapping.”

  “No, Ellison is dead—and Duss will deny he knew anything about the kidnapping.” Peter stood and began to pace, but not straying too far from the phone.

  “He’s got an army of top-notch attorneys on his payroll. We have to have overwhelming evidence to get a conviction.”

  Peter leaned over the counter, suddenly energized. “Or, you need to turn him.”

  “Go on,” Jim said.

  “Can you have the FBI file federal charges? Terrorism? Firing missiles in a National Forest? Whatever. Anything and everything you can think of.”

  “I’m sure we can get the Justice Department to cooperate. What’s the end game?”

  As Nadya listened, Peter explained his plan.

  “Well, it may be our best shot. I’ll make sure Lacey and Stephens are prepped, and I’ll phone Detective Colson and get the ball rolling. We’ll need to move fast. In the meantime, you two should get some rest. Expect to hear from Colson later today.”

  “One more thing,” Peter said before Jim ended the call. “How is Kate?”

  “Good. She’s safe here. Bored, but safe. She told me to remind you of your promise.”

  Peter smiled, his mind flashing back to their farewell as she boarded the SGIT jet. That seemed so long ago.

  “Tell her I remember, and I always keep a promise.” His smile faded.

  After the call ended, Nadya looked at Peter like she was seeing him for the first time. “Who is Kate?”

  “Someone who reminded me of something I’d forgotten.”

  “What would that be?”

  He raised his eyes to Nadya, his mind suddenly turning melancholy. “Life shouldn’t be wasted.”

  Peter dropped himself into one of the leather, overstuffed chairs in front of the fireplace and Nadya retreated to the guest room. They both needed rest; a full ten hours of sleep would be great. But there was too much going on for that to happen. The best they could expect would be a few hours of shuteye—fitful, but better than nothing.

  Peter pulled the leather ottoman closer and placed his legs on it. The supple leather and plush padding felt luxurious in comparison to the night he’d spent on concrete, van floors, and hard chairs.

  Very quickly his eyelids closed as his entire body relaxed. But deep sleep did not come. His semiconscious mind began wandering. How would Claude Duss react when confronted by the federal charges? What if the detonator had failed and the improvised mine had not detonated? Would he ever be safe? And what of his family, Ethan and Joanna?

  He shifted his body, scrunching deeper into the stuffed chair, trying to clear his mind. He craved sleep, but he had to shut down his mind first. There were so many what-ifs. He thought back to the beginning, when he met Kate Simpson. That Agent Barnes would have surely murdered her had he not been there. What will happen to Kate?

  He recalled her brown eyes, soft and gentle; when she smiled her whole face radiated joy. Peter pictured that smile, her chocolate brown hair shimmering as she moved her head, her infectious laughter. Then he pictured a different Kate, one who was terrified after discovering the body of her roommate. Peter had lived this before—when fear infected like a hideous disease, a disease that left the body gaunt and pale after attacking the soul.

  Kate would be easy prey for assassins if he couldn’t end this nightmare. Peter pictured her opening the door to a delivery person, or a police officer, only to learn too late that they were imposters.

  No, he had to be certain the leaders were stopped—arrested and put in prison, or killed. It was the only way.

  His mind shifted to Nadya and the moment she was prepared to kill him on the mountain. She had said Peter was a killer, no different from her or her team. He was angry at first; he wanted to believe he was different. But now, he questioned himself and his motives. Was he really any different?

  He opened his eyes and checked the time. It was morning, and he had to concede he wasn’t going to get much sleep. Maybe some fresh air would help. He patted Diesel on the head, but the canine showed no interest in giving up his warm spot on the rug.

  Pocketing his cell phone and keys, Peter opened the secret panel in the bookcase and retrieved the memory stick he’d hidden there inside the barrel of the Brown Bess musket. He quietly left and locked the door, no reason to disturb Nadya. Clutching the memory stick he climbed into his H3 Hummer truck and started the engine.

  His first destination was an office supply store to purchase another memory stick. Next stop was the library to use one of the public computers.

  Time to double down on my insurance policy.

  Chapter 51

  Bend, Oregon

  April 27

  Peter glanced at the time on his phone before answering the call. It was almost 1:30 p.m. The number was blocked on caller ID. That was fast, thought it would be later.

  “Mr. Savage, it’s Detective Colson. I was told you’d be expecting my call. I want you and Ms. Wheeler to participate in a meeting at Bend PD in a little over an hour from now. Say 3:00 p.m.”

  “We’ll be there.” Peter had already had lunch: a pulled pork sandwich and glass of IPA from one of his favorite brewpubs. He patted his pocket for the third time, making certain both memory sticks were still there.

  On the short drive home, Peter was thinking over the anticipat
ed meeting with Detective Colson. She did not want to say who would be attending, which suggested to Peter that Jim had succeeded in convincing the Department of Justice and FBI to play along.

  Diesel greeted Peter at the door, tail wagging. It seemed that despite the sutured wounds and extensive bruising, the worst of the pain had passed. “Hey boy. Is Nadya still sleeping?”

  Diesel returned his master’s gaze, cocking his head to the side.

  Peter walked to the guest room and knocked on the door. “Nadya, we have our meeting soon.”

  He expected to hear a groggy acknowledgement, or maybe stirring as she rose and moved about the room. Instead, he was greeted by silence.

  He rapped his knuckles against the door, this time harder. “Nadya?”

  Silence.

  Peter turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, peaking around the edge, hoping she was just exhausted and sleeping soundly. The sheet and blanket were pulled back, and the pillow was pushed in, suggesting she had slept in the bed, but the room was empty. Nadya was gone.

  “Where’s Ms. Wheeler?” Detective Colson asked.

  “I don’t know. She left without a word. Not even a note.”

  “Great. Why is it that nothing’s easy when you’re involved?”

  Peter shrugged.

  “Never mind. Sign in so we can issue you a visitor’s badge.”

  Peter filled out the log sheet and a uniformed officer gave him a clip-on badge. An audible buzz accompanied the click of a lock, and Colson held the door open for Peter to enter.

  “You should have this. You’ll find the contents interesting, to say the least.” Peter held out a memory stick.

  She raised her eyebrows as she pocketed the memory device. “Follow me,” she said.

  It wasn’t far to the conference room, and Colson waved him inside. Jim and Mona Stephens were already seated at the table.

  “Lieutenant Lacey couldn’t break away from another assignment,” Jim said. “But Ms. Stephens has been on this case from the beginning. In fact, she’s been our point of contact with Detective Colson.”

  An unfamiliar face approached Peter. “I’m Special Agent Markley,” he said as he offered his FBI badge and ID for Peter to examine. “We’ve discussed this case in detail,” he said as he motioned for Peter to take a seat. “I was under the impression that Ms. Wheeler would also be participating. We have some questions we thought she could help with.”

  “I don’t know where Nadya is. She was staying in my guest room after the detective dropped us off early this morning. I went out to have lunch, and when I returned, she was gone.”

  “Did you ask her to join you for lunch?” Detective Colson asked.

  Peter shook his head. “I assumed she was sleeping; I didn’t want to wake her.”

  “We’re checking her story,” Stephens added. “It might take a few days to get a definitive answer if we have to involve the State Department.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” Markley said. “Under the circumstances, the Bureau has no choice but to place her on a watch list as a suspected terrorist. At the very least, we want to bring her in for questioning.”

  Jim cleared his throat. “We will provide you a full report once we have anything definitive from the Israeli government. However, under the circumstances, perhaps it would be more productive to focus on the bigger fish.”

  Markley frowned. “I’m coming to that Commander. Your participation in an advisory capacity is appreciated, but we do have a process to follow.”

  “Gentlemen.” Colson interrupted sensing a turf battle about to erupt. “No one is suggesting we forget about Ms. Wheeler. But that’s not why we are here. The question of national security must be taken seriously. If the allegations that Commander Nicolaou has shared are true, we have an extremely serious problem.”

  Markley held his hands out in a placating gesture. “Agent Elizondo is questioning Mr. Duss just down the hall. As you suggested, if he agrees to testify against Angela Meyers and Abraham Schuman, we are prepared to offer full immunity on all federal charges, including terrorism. I have to say, I never thought the AG would agree to these terms.”

  “Do you think he’ll take the offer?” Peter asked. He had formulated this plan after thinking about the comment Duss made about being above the law, having a get-out-of-jail-free card, as he put it.

  “I do,” Markley replied. “It may not be enough to get a conviction against Schuman, but it should ruin his chances of getting elected in November. My guess is, Schuman will turn on Meyers, make her the scapegoat. For her part, Meyers has already given us the name of her contact at the Portland office—Andrew Shooks. He’s had a lot to say about Meyers, but so far we’re only getting hearsay on Schuman’s role.”

  Peter nodded. “What about David Feldman?”

  “That will be up to President Taylor’s administration, assuming he wins re-election.”

  “Which is very likely if Schuman is disgraced,” Stephens observed. “We’ve scrutinized both campaigns, and although Schuman is favored over Taylor, his popularity is driven by a large fraction of pro-nationalist, anti-establishment voters. But there is also a large block of swing voters. And once Schuman is discredited, facing criminal charges and a possible conviction, those swing voters will shift to supporting President Taylor.”

  “Israel has always been a very close ally,” Jim said. “Even so, President Taylor does not take kindly to being played. I suspect the atmosphere between Washington and Tel Aviv will be pretty frosty for a while.”

  Peter folded his arms across his chest. “So, this all sounds good. But for the plan to work, it requires Duss to take the deal. Then, my friend Detective Colson,” Peter motioned with his hand to the detective, “plays her cards.”

  “Already briefed the Chief,” she said.

  There was a knock at the door, and Peter swiveled in his chair to see who it was.

  Markley addressed their visitor. “Agent Elizondo, this is Peter Savage.” Peter stood and shook the agent’s hand. Markley was standing now, too.

  “Well?”

  “After exchanging a few words with his attorney, he took the deal. That bastard is unbelievably arrogant. He didn’t spend more than a minute thinking it over. He said the USS Liberty files were simply the blueprint, confirming your theory.” Elizondo held his hand out toward Peter and Stephens.

  The agent continued, “He said Schuman was worried that if there was renewed publicity about the role President Johnson played in that incident—the fact he committed the U.S. military to supporting a pre-emptive attack on the Arab Coalition, including willingly sacrificing the Liberty and blaming the attack on Egypt to drum up popular support—then the press would be sensitive to Schuman’s collusion with Prime Minister Feldman to repeat that plan. Only this time, it would have been joint Israeli and American forces bombing and invading Iran, Syria, and Iraq.”

  “That’s quite the story,” Colson said.

  “Yes,” Elizondo replied. “As war spread—possibly even involving Russia—United Armaments, under the leadership of Claude Duss, would make billions from the sale of weapons. He claims to possess secretly recorded conversations with Schuman stashed in a safe deposit box. Based on what he shared, even if he suddenly decides not to cooperate, we have enough to get a search warrant. He must have anticipated that this could all blow up in his face.”

  “Naturally, the AG will downplay this deal,” Markley added. “As Special Agent in Charge, I’ll draft a press release pointing out the close cooperation between our departments. Of course, I’ll need a quote from you, Detective Colson, and from your chief.”

  Colson stared at the two FBI agents. She was amazed they seemed more interested in the optics than in actually catching the bad guy and stopping a plot that would have drawn the U.S. into a full-scale war encompassing all of the Middle East.

  “I assume you have what you want from Mr. Duss?” Colson said.

  “Yep,” Elizondo replied. “Signed, sealed, and delivered.�
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  “Very well. Would you please escort Mr. Duss and his attorney in here? I don’t expect he’ll take what I have to say very well—better to have several witnesses. Besides, I owe Mr. Savage the satisfaction of being present when this comes to an end.”

  Elizondo nodded and, followed by Markley, left the room.

  “I suspect that memory stick you gave me contains the Liberty files?”

  “Yes. It’s evidence. Thought you would need it.” Peter expected a thank you, but Colson remained noncommittal.

  “There may be complications with that evidence,” Stephens said.

  “Such as?”

  “The government doesn’t want it released. Our request to declassify all of the documents have so far been refused. No one will even admit that the files exist.”

  “I could simply release them to the press,” Peter said.

  Colson worked her lower jaw, not pleased about this new revelation. “So, what you’re saying, is that even if I wanted to return this data to Mr. Savage, I can’t.”

  Stephens nodded.

  “Well,” Peter said, “someone should leak this information. Then the government would have to acknowledge its existence and explain why, after all these decades, they still don’t want to make it public. I can’t—”

  Peter was interrupted by the opening of the door. Wearing an orange jumpsuit and with his hands cuffed to a chain around his waist, Claude Duss entered, followed by his attorney and the two FBI agents.

  Colson rose and motioned to an empty chair. “Have a seat, Mr. Duss.”

  “What is this about?” his attorney objected. “We made a deal. Complete immunity from prosecution in exchange for my client’s full cooperation.”

  “Yes, that is my understanding as well. Agents Markley and Elizondo have explained that Mr. Duss is very happy to be a cooperative witness, including sharing secretly taped phone conversations with Abraham Schuman.”

  The attorney was nodding vigorously. “And my client is afforded immunity from prosecution for all charges associated with the alleged crimes. I am confident the tapes and testimony Mr. Duss will provide will be very damaging to Schulman’s defense.”