Then she picked up her cell and backed away.
As the cone of light retreated from the sasquatch it suddenly unfolded itself from the corner of the cage and reached out. One huge hand passed between the bars and lifted the canister off the ground. Another reached out through another gap in the bars and tilted the base of the canister up as the head appeared just on the periphery of the light and touched its lips to the cap.
Lopez watched as water splashed and drizzled onto the floor and down the immense creature’s chest as it sucked and guzzled the five gallons down in little more than two minutes.
She turned and looked up at the vents in the wall.
Both of them were little more than twelve inches high and maybe three feet wide, faced with metal grills and likely led out to an equally impassable ventilation shaft.
There was no other way out of the room.
Lopez turned and saw the sasquatch squatting on the floor of the cage watching her, its eyes flashing as they caught the blue light of the cell. The animal growled, a low, throaty and menacing sound that vibrated through her chest like thunder. She saw the thick hairs on its back bristle upward as a muscle twitched in its shoulder.
And then the cage door clicked and the heavy latch slipped out of place.
With a high-pitched whine, the door drifted open.
66
Abraham Mitchell stood in front of William Steel’s desk, his fists clenched by his sides and his gaze boring directly into the DCIA’s like laser beams.
‘You’ve burned my people.’
Steel remained in his seat, as he had done so when Mitchell had barreled past his personal assistant outside and thundered into the office.
‘Nobody has been burned,’ Steel replied.
The man was hiding behind his desk and a thin veneer of professional immunity. Mitchell knew that Steel could have half a dozen security guards inside the office within seconds, and he was also aware of why the director had not done so immediately. He knew that what they were about to discuss was not just classified but highly illegaclass="underline" any exposure could see Steel not just hounded out of his office but up for a grilling in front of Congress and the Senate. Or worse.
‘Whatever you’re hiding up there in Idaho, it stays between us,’ Mitchell growled. ‘Right up until a single one of my people gets killed. Then, it’s all over Congress.’
‘Is that a threat?’ Steel asked, looking idly up at Mitchell.
‘A promise.’
‘Based on what evidence?’ Steel challenged. ‘Fanciful claims made by dope-smoking hippies from the Idaho hills? You’ve got nothing.’
‘We’ve got more than you think,’ Mitchell pointed out. ‘My guys have been on the ground for a while, William. They’ve already pieced enough together to know that whatever’s in that mountain, it’s got CIA written all over it.’ He leaned forward, resting his balled fists on the desk top. ‘And you’ve been tailing not just my people but Congressional aides for weeks now, perhaps longer. You think that’ll look good when it crops up in the investigation reports?’
Steel’s eyes narrowed.
‘You haven’t got any evidence of surveillance operations on-going in the district and—’
‘We have photographic evidence,’ Mitchell cut across him. ‘Enough to identify CIA agents at work and their possible involvement in the assassination of a Congressional aide right here in Virginia.’
William Steel leaned forward on his desk, the casually dismissive expression draining from his features.
‘Who? When?’
Mitchell raised an eyebrow.
‘You weren’t aware?’ he mocked. ‘That’s not good, considering you almost certainly personally sanctioned the operation itself. And we have names, too. I take it that Mr. Wilson is leading the charge?’
Steel’s features paled a little further. ‘Where did you hear that name?’
‘My people are doing their job,’ Mitchell snapped back. ‘Which is to figure things out and report back to me. Let me guess: your man in the field has gone too far and now you’re starting to realize that if you don’t rein him in he’ll blow the whole damned thing up in your face?’
Steel swallowed and his eyes quivered as Mitchell watched him thinking furiously.
‘This is too big to break publicly,’ he said. ‘You do that, we’ll both go down.’
‘No, we won’t, and you know it,’ Mitchell growled. ‘You said it yourself in front of the Joint Chiefs — you’ve got an operation on-going up there and the DIA investigation was in danger of exposing it. But you’re not concerned with the lives of agents on the ground; you’re only interested in covering your own ass regardless of the collateral damage it might cause.’
‘That’s not true,’ Steel uttered.
‘What, then?’
Steel stared into Mitchell’s eyes for a long moment before he replied.
‘What do you want?’
Mitchell kept his features impassive. ‘My people out, safely. Doug Jarvis to be cleared of all involvement in the suspected murder of a Congressional aide, Ben Consiglio. I’m sure your man Wilson will be able to fill you in on what really happened there.’
Steel ground his teeth in his jaw. ‘I can get Jarvis out of trouble but your people in Idaho are on their own. It’s too late.’
‘The air strike,’ Mitchell rumbled, and was rewarded with a nod from Steel.
‘Once we get the data out the whole place will be nothing but a memory. Terrible underground gas leak and explosion, lack of ventilation.’ Steel sighed. ‘No survivors.’
Mitchell’s thick hand whipped across the desk and grabbed Steel’s collar. He hauled the DCIA across his desk, the smaller man gagging as his shirt crushed his throat. Mitchell glared deep into Steel’s eyes.
‘If my people are killed I’ll blow the whistle on this.’
‘They’re not your people,’ Steel coughed. ‘They’re just two-bit losers out of Chicago, they’re nothing.’
Mitchell dropped Steel face down onto his desk, pinning the back of his head with a forearm as he leaned down close.
‘They’re also patriots,’ he rumbled, ‘a word that you’re clearly no longer familiar with. They die, so does your career, your reputation and your future.’
Steel’s voice squeaked back at Mitchell.
‘I’d be careful if I were you. I’m not the only one with something to lose.’
‘Like hell,’ Mitchell snapped. ‘This stops at your door.’
‘Not if Mr. Wilson is going off the range. He could target anybody.’
Mitchell considered this for a moment and then tightened his grip.
‘Not before you’re sunk,’ he replied. ‘Jarvis told me that there must be a plant in the Government Accountability Office in the district, a CIA mole. Give me the name.’
‘Or what?’ Steel coughed.
‘Or I’ll drag you down to Congress myself, right now, and tell them in advance about the air strike that hasn’t happened yet. Our own National Guard using live weapons on American citizens on American soil under CIA control? That alone will be enough to finish you, and start a much more interesting investigation into CIA programs.’
Steel strained against Mitchell’s iron grip.
‘How do I know you won’t squeal anyway?’
‘You don’t,’ Mitchell said as he twisted Steel’s neck further. ‘The mole, who is it?’
Over his pain, Steel coughed a name loudly enough for Mitchell to hear.
67
‘This is it.’
Guy Rikard held aloft a piece of paper from Natalie Warner’s collection of files. The piece of paper was filled with scribbled notes that she had made during the day, and one of the notes caught his eye.