After the explosion at the American Museum of Natural History in New York and his subsequent fallout with Senator Boden, Jake refused to be treated. He had taken a taxi back to the airport where, once onboard Wiley’s Citation, he cleaned up and changed clothes while the flight crew flew him on the one-hour hop from New York to the Greenbrier Valley Airport in Lewisburg, West Virginia.
When the Citation decelerated on the seven thousand foot runway, Jake noticed a ramp overcrowded with business jets of all types. Falcons. Challengers. Sabreliners. Citations. Bentley’s Challenger jet and Wiley’s personal Citation 750 were among the more than two dozen stylish business jets. The flight crew parked the Citation next to Wiley’s other jet. Jake planned to arrange transportation to The Greenbrier, but the chief pilot for Wiley’s personal aircraft yelled out to Jake. “Mr. Wiley sent a limo to pick you up and take you to The Greenbrier. You’re to go to the north entrance and he’ll meet you there in thirty minutes.”
“He thinks of everything.” How the hell did the old man know I was coming?
Twenty-five minutes later the black limousine pulled up to the north entrance of The Greenbrier. Nestled in a valley in the Allegheny Mountains, the Greenbrier was a lavish resort. Jake couldn’t help but notice a similarity in architectural style between the White House in Washington, DC and The Greenbrier Hotel except the Greenbrier was several times larger. As the limo pulled under the portico, Jake scanned the manicured lawn, the groomed hedges, and blooming flowers. Even in early November they were meticulously nurtured.
Jake crawled out of the limo and was greeted by the hotel staff. “Are you Mr. Pendleton?” The man asked.
“I am.”
“Right this way, please. Misters Wiley and Bentley are waiting for you in the lobby.”
For the last two hours, Jake had thought about what he wanted to say to both men but was still unsure how to broach the topics certain to be considered classified. But he had to know the truth and the only way to find out was to ask. Point blank.
“I’ll follow you.” Jake said to the man.
He followed the man through an open room and into a large lobby.
The man pointed to the far wall. “There they are, sir.”
“Thank you.”
Bentley and Wiley stood side-by-side underneath an oversized archway embellished in green and white striped wallpaper. The furnishings were bathed in vivid colors; coral, green, pink, turquoise, and lavender with textures ranging from velvet to leather. Jake walked across the black and white marble checkerboard floor until he reached the men.
Wiley smiled while Bentley showed no emotion. Each man wore a jacket and tie; Bentley had his signature leather portfolio briefcase tucked under his arm and Wiley a black nylon briefcase draped over his shoulder. Jake could tell neither welcomed his arrival at The Greenbrier.
Uninvited.
Wiley stuck out his hand. “Congratulations, Jake. A job well done. You stopped the attack and killed Khan. You saved a lot of lives today.”
“I didn’t kill Khan, he blew himself up.” Jake expected a response from Bentley, but got nothing.
Wiley continued. “I’m a little surprised to see you here. How did you know where to find me?”
Jake focused his gaze on Bentley. “Yesterday the Director mentioned he had a meeting with you here. I have a question that needs answering and it is important both of you are together to hear it.”
Wiley looked at Bentley. “Okay, Jake. What is it?”
Jake fished around in his back pocket and pulled out the newspaper clippings Bentley had given him. “I have some questions about these.” He handed them to Wiley.
“This is not the place.” Bentley said.
“The three of us need to take a walk." Wiley signaled for the two men to follow him. "Now.”
Jake saw the look on Bentley’s face turn to apprehension. He followed Wiley and Bentley who were walking shoulder-to-shoulder whispering. Whispering and arguing. They walked through the lobby and out a rear door into the gardens and onto a red-bricked path. Wiley asked Jake to fall back. Wiley passed the news clipping to Bentley, who held them for a few seconds then passed them back to Wiley. Bentley shook his head. They whispered some more. Jake strained to hear but the men kept their voices too low.
He followed them to a small pavilion called The Spring House, nestled on the rear lawn. The twelve-column white structure held a copper dome covered in patina. Red, white, and blue swag banners drooped between each post. Under the dome, a spiral brick floor with a black rail fence surrounding a sulphur spring.
As he watched the two older men with the manicured lawn in the background, he noticed something familiar. Déjà vu. Bentley and the old man, face-to-face, in hushed conversation. He’d seen this before and now he knew when. And where.
Wiley motioned for Jake to join them.
The three men stood silent around the rail. Jake could tell they were pondering what to say to him. He’d asked a question they didn’t expect and weren’t in agreement on how to proceed.
Wiley spoke first. “Jake, you remember the day we met in Texas? When Bentley brought you to me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you recall asking me about my emissaries, I told you that soon you would see it was a lot more?”
Jake nodded.
“Maybe that time has come? But Scott has a couple of things he wants to ask you first.”
Jake looked at Bentley.
Bentley’s piercing look didn’t faze Jake. He stood resolute. This time he wouldn’t back down.
“Jake, I only want to know two things. Why didn’t you call me sooner? And did you really call Senator Boden a dumbass?”
Jake looked at Bentley then glanced at Wiley. Wiley gave a slight nod.
“Do you remember the last thing you said to me before you left me in El Paso?” Jake looked at Bentley.
“Refresh my memory.” Bentley said.
“You said until you tell me otherwise, I take orders from Mr. Wiley. You never said otherwise, so I tailed Khan and followed him into the museum. If I’d called for reinforcements sooner, Khan might have been tipped off before I had a chance to defuse the bombs. So, while Khan was underground and had no clue what was going on above him, I felt it was in our collective best interests to handle the situation on my own. If your storm troopers would have invaded the place too soon—”
Bentley cut him off. “And Boden?”
“The idiot wanted a three-ring media circus and I refused. How many times have you told me that clandestine means executed in secrecy? Then he threatened to have me fired, picked up by the FBI, so I explained it to him the only way he could understand. Then I left.”
Jake took a deep breath and continued.
“I want to know about Beth. I want to know about my parents.” Jake took the article from Wiley’s hands. He turned to Bentley. “And I want to know about Ian Collins.”
Bentley raised his hand. “Easy Jake. You’re a very smart man with uncanny intuition. There is much more involved than what you see on the surface. And that’s one reason I put you with E. W. Your potential would be better served outside the constraints of the federal government. The Clandestine Service is not the place for your talents, which is why Mr. Wiley has been training you. Testing you on many levels, cognitive skills beyond any tradecraft skill you could learn with us. He’s been grooming you to work for him, seeing if you have what it takes to become one of his emissaries.”