Page 64
Story: Blowback
He expertly spins it in the air. “Father thought I would be more like Hong Kong when I came back. Open to business, democracy, what you in the West call essential freedoms. He was wrong. I wanted nothing more than revenge against that renegade island. My good friend Han Yuanchao, who believes he is in charge of this operation, thinks that when the time comes, you will be freed with little or no discomfort.”
Benjamin takes a breath, focuses, knows what’s coming, stands up just as Wanquan moves toward him.
“Like Father, Yuanchao is wrong. You need to be punished. If you are ever returned to America, I want to ensure that you bear the wounds of those who go against us.”
The cricket bat snaps at his head. Benjamin blocks it with his wrist, but the jolt stuns him, and despite his training and experience, in a few minutes, he’s on the floor, the thick wooden bat hitting him, harder and harder, until he blacks out.
CHAPTER 53
ALDO SLOAN SAYS, “What now, Noa?”
“Now?” she says. “For the moment, the president has halted our operations, and those of our overseas group. That gives us some time.”
“To do what?”
Noa says, “For you and the others, time to hire your own lawyers. Unless there’s divine intervention from whatever god or goddess is out there, BOHICA time is coming. Be prepared, lawyer up, and you and the others have my permission to toss me under whichever Metro bus is closest. I hate to use this phrase because of its origin, but you were following my orders.”
“But you were following President Barrett’s orders.”
Noa freshens her drink. BOHICA: Bend Over, Here It Comes Again. A Vietnam War–era phrase that has lasted for decades, meaning those folks in the field—military or intelligence—are going to be the sacrificial lambs once again to protect the ones issuing orders.
“That’s right, and at some point, some congressional oversight committee is going to determine that his orders were illegal, and whoever followed his orders should have known better.”
“Why don’t you get the story out first?”
“Leak?” she says. “Not going to happen. Plus, the president has something he’s holding over me. A nice clear video of me executing a wounded prisoner in CIA custody.”
Aldo says, “What? Surveillance camera?”
“A drone, it looked like.”
He says, “Noa, you made a tough decision. There was nothing else you could have done. That Quds terrorist was dying. Bringing him to a civilian hospital was not an option. Besides, there was a good chance that he’d probably die even if we did get him there. If it was an execution, it was a battlefield operation against a known terrorist who shot first.”
Noa smiles. “I love your attitude and support, Aldo, but getting a jury of twelve in Virginia to agree with your thoughts are nil.”
“What are you going to do?”
“First,” she says, getting her phone in her hands, “some photos, just in case the evidence you found disappears at some point.”
Noa takes photos of the mystery woman picking up Otterson’s envelopes.
“If it does, I’m being disappeared as well.”
“You’re too big to disappear, friend,” she says, as she puts the phone down. “Meanwhile, I’m going to lawyer up myself, I suppose,” she says. “It’s coming, one way or another. Once Director Abrams gets her footing and starts digging and asking questions, she is going ballistic, and shit is going to fly, and you know how shit all flows downhill in circumstances like this.”
“Well,” Aldo says, gathering up the photos and reports. “I’m not lawyering up, not quite yet.” He taps a thick finger on the original photo of Donna Otterson and the unidentified woman who three times retrieved drop-offs.
He says, “I’m going to find out who this woman is, and what in hell Otterson was passing over that made her want to kill herself. I mean, she was a finance resource officer, for God’s sake. What kindof classified information could she have that was so important to pass on, and to end in her suicide?”
“You don’t have to do it, Aldo.”
He puts the rest of the photographs away. “Not an option, Noa, and I can tell you, the rest of the team feels the same way. We’re together on this, and there’s no bus out there that we’re going to toss you under. So don’t worry about that.”
Noa takes one more swallow of her drink. Sharp and cold, she finds it refreshing, and she says, “Good. That leaves me with a host of other things to worry about.”
“Such as?”
“Such as President Barrett has been giving us mission packages because of the people in the Agency who are still personally loyal to him,” she says.
Benjamin takes a breath, focuses, knows what’s coming, stands up just as Wanquan moves toward him.
“Like Father, Yuanchao is wrong. You need to be punished. If you are ever returned to America, I want to ensure that you bear the wounds of those who go against us.”
The cricket bat snaps at his head. Benjamin blocks it with his wrist, but the jolt stuns him, and despite his training and experience, in a few minutes, he’s on the floor, the thick wooden bat hitting him, harder and harder, until he blacks out.
CHAPTER 53
ALDO SLOAN SAYS, “What now, Noa?”
“Now?” she says. “For the moment, the president has halted our operations, and those of our overseas group. That gives us some time.”
“To do what?”
Noa says, “For you and the others, time to hire your own lawyers. Unless there’s divine intervention from whatever god or goddess is out there, BOHICA time is coming. Be prepared, lawyer up, and you and the others have my permission to toss me under whichever Metro bus is closest. I hate to use this phrase because of its origin, but you were following my orders.”
“But you were following President Barrett’s orders.”
Noa freshens her drink. BOHICA: Bend Over, Here It Comes Again. A Vietnam War–era phrase that has lasted for decades, meaning those folks in the field—military or intelligence—are going to be the sacrificial lambs once again to protect the ones issuing orders.
“That’s right, and at some point, some congressional oversight committee is going to determine that his orders were illegal, and whoever followed his orders should have known better.”
“Why don’t you get the story out first?”
“Leak?” she says. “Not going to happen. Plus, the president has something he’s holding over me. A nice clear video of me executing a wounded prisoner in CIA custody.”
Aldo says, “What? Surveillance camera?”
“A drone, it looked like.”
He says, “Noa, you made a tough decision. There was nothing else you could have done. That Quds terrorist was dying. Bringing him to a civilian hospital was not an option. Besides, there was a good chance that he’d probably die even if we did get him there. If it was an execution, it was a battlefield operation against a known terrorist who shot first.”
Noa smiles. “I love your attitude and support, Aldo, but getting a jury of twelve in Virginia to agree with your thoughts are nil.”
“What are you going to do?”
“First,” she says, getting her phone in her hands, “some photos, just in case the evidence you found disappears at some point.”
Noa takes photos of the mystery woman picking up Otterson’s envelopes.
“If it does, I’m being disappeared as well.”
“You’re too big to disappear, friend,” she says, as she puts the phone down. “Meanwhile, I’m going to lawyer up myself, I suppose,” she says. “It’s coming, one way or another. Once Director Abrams gets her footing and starts digging and asking questions, she is going ballistic, and shit is going to fly, and you know how shit all flows downhill in circumstances like this.”
“Well,” Aldo says, gathering up the photos and reports. “I’m not lawyering up, not quite yet.” He taps a thick finger on the original photo of Donna Otterson and the unidentified woman who three times retrieved drop-offs.
He says, “I’m going to find out who this woman is, and what in hell Otterson was passing over that made her want to kill herself. I mean, she was a finance resource officer, for God’s sake. What kindof classified information could she have that was so important to pass on, and to end in her suicide?”
“You don’t have to do it, Aldo.”
He puts the rest of the photographs away. “Not an option, Noa, and I can tell you, the rest of the team feels the same way. We’re together on this, and there’s no bus out there that we’re going to toss you under. So don’t worry about that.”
Noa takes one more swallow of her drink. Sharp and cold, she finds it refreshing, and she says, “Good. That leaves me with a host of other things to worry about.”
“Such as?”
“Such as President Barrett has been giving us mission packages because of the people in the Agency who are still personally loyal to him,” she says.
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