When he and Kaplan arrived back at Langley from Australia, Jake was sent home, told to get some rest, and pack.
No destination given.
Jake knew Kaplan had been in contact with Bentley prior to and during their flight back to Washington. Kaplan was summoned directly to Bentley’s office and Jake was sent home. He could only surmise that Kaplan would be going to Yemen in search of Isabella Hunt — only he wanted to go too.
“Sir.” Jake had to break the silence. “Where are we going?”
“Jake, there’s someone I want you to meet.” Bentley closed his portfolio and gave his seatbelt a tug.
“Why the silent treatment?”
“Because I had to decide what I was going to do with you.”
“And that is what…fly me across the country so I can meet someone?”
Bentley stared at him. “Yes, but first we’re going to eat lunch.”
“Where are we? We’ve been in the air for hours.”
“West Texas. Not too far from El Paso.”
“That’s a long way to go for lunch. It must be good.” Jake thought he saw a slight curl in Bentley’s lips. Then it disappeared.
The jet descended toward the desert floor. Jake looked out the windows on both sides and saw nothing but tumbleweeds, sand, rocks, and cliffs. As if out of nowhere, an asphalt runway appeared beneath the aircraft as it gently touched down and taxied to a large hangar. Parked in front of the hangar was the longest golf cart he’d ever seen with a driver dressed in full cowboy regalia.
Jake followed Bentley down the air stair to the tarmac.
Bentley turned and pointed back at the aircraft. “Go get your bag, you’ll need it. You’re not returning with me.”
The sound of those words sent a chill through Jake. He grabbed his bag and followed Bentley.
The cowboy stepped from the cart and motioned to take Jake’s bag. “Director Bentley, Mr. Pendleton, Welcome to Wrangler’s Steakhouse. If you’ll hop in, I’ll take you to your table.”
Cowboy tucked Jake’s bag away in a covered trunk on the rear of the cart. The cart’s seats were made of plush leather with studs securing it around the thick padding. Tassels hung from the outside of each seat and whipped in the wind as the cart pulled away from the hangar.
Jake ran his hand across the leather. “Is everything here this nice?”
Bentley kept looking forward, “E. W. doesn’t do anything half-ass.”
The cart pulled under a thatch portico attached to the large adobe style building. Jake counted five parking lots, two of which were full. He glanced at his watch, “A lot of people for lunch, I hope we have a reservation.”
“This is nothing," Cowboy said. "Wait til suppertime. It’s Friday night, all seven lots will be full and there’ll be a good two-hour wait for a table. Happens every weekend. Holidays are worse.”
“Seven parking lots? I only counted five.”
Cowboy pointed to a hill behind the restaurant. “Two larger ones beyond that ridge.”
Jake turned to Bentley, “Will I be staying here tonight?”
“No.”
“Mr. Pendleton, I’ll deliver your bag to you this afternoon.” Cowboy pointed toward the glass entryway. “Right this way gentlemen.”
Cowboy took them to a table in an empty part of the restaurant, “Your waiter will be right with you.”
Jake’s curiosity grew until he couldn’t stand it any longer. “Sir, what’s going on?”
Bentley placed his portfolio on the edge of the table. “You promised me you’d control yourself in Australia…yet you didn’t.”
Jake inhaled to speak but Bentley’s finger was in the air signaling him to remain quiet.
“I realize you thought you were saving the woman. She was undercover, sent to infiltrate Yasir’s camp. She’s a South Korean posing as a North Korean arms dealer. It took her nearly six months to gain Yasir’s trust. She was supposed to arrange a weapons transfer for Khan. Her intel indicated that Yasir’s camp was one of three cells planning attacks around the world. She claims she tried to stop you, our link to Khan is dead and we don’t know what other cities are targeted. Now we might not be able to stop the attack or attacks.”
“Sir, it all happened so fast. By the time I realized what she was saying, Yasir was already dead. I thought she would be more useful to us than Yasir. I had no idea a plant was in the camp.”
“That’s why you follow orders. You don’t have the bigger picture.” Bentley paused. “Are you familiar with Senator Richard Boden, Committee Chairman for Homeland Security and Governmental Affairs?”
“The old man with Donald Trump hair who's always chewing gum?” Jake nodded. “Yes sir, I know who he is.”
“He wants me to hand you over to him. He has so much as ordered me to do so. He wants to make an example of you. Drag you through the coals publicly and then lock you away. I won’t let that happen. Not to any of my operatives. I take orders from the President, not Boden. So I’m putting you someplace where you can lay low. Let this whole thing blow over, and sooner or later it will blow over.”
Bentley unrolled his cloth napkin, placed it in his lap, and rearranged his silverware on the table. “Things have changed, Jake. Times have changed. The Clandestine Service is not what it once was. Society has trouble accepting what we do. Congress is slowly neutering the CIA. Everyday we lose power and prestige. The People want things done, want to feel safe and secure, but they don’t want to know the truth. Do you understand what I’m saying, Jake?”
“I think so, sir. The good ol' days are gone and the wheels of bureaucracy are grinding the company train to a halt.”
“Crude…but accurate. In many ways, we’ve already ground to a halt. More and more covert operations are being farmed out to contractors and paid through over-budgeted slush funds and dummy corporations. The government has reached a point where it can no longer have assassins as employees. The public has an unrealistic expectation that all problems can be solved diplomatically. Society has grown soft and refuses to accept the true, evil nature of our enemies. So we have been forced to find other ways to accomplish our goals — goals that must be accomplished for the welfare of this nation as well as many other nations.”
“How long before all this blows over and I can get back to work?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m putting you out of sight for a while. And in the mean time, maybe you will learn a little about yourself…and why your problems can't always be solved by simply pulling a trigger.”
“But Admiral, I’d like to help Kaplan find Isabella. We’re a team.”
“Jake, first of all, you and Kaplan need a little time apart.” Bentley’s tone startled him. “Kaplan is a team player. Isabella is a team player. You, on the other hand, are not a team player and you had better learn to be one very soon or there is no place for you in my organization. Do I make myself clear?”
Jake now understood the impact of his actions in Australia. Bentley had never spoken to him like that and obviously had given him all the leeway he could. He would do what ever Bentley asked of him. He would control his anger — he had to. He would become a team player.
Their waiter interrupted them. He brought two menus, two glasses and a pitcher of water. While he poured water in the glasses he asked if they wanted cocktails. They both declined.
Out the window Jake saw an old covered chuck wagon with a steer skull attached to the front of the canopy. A peacock perched on the hitching rail. In the distance an old barn surrounded by cactus served as a reminder of the ranch’s history as a stopping point for the old Pony Express.