"Because the CIA asked me to," Troy admitted sheepishly.
"The C–I-friggin'-A?" Jenna said, rolling her eyes in disbelief "I guess you're paranoid, if you're seeing the CIA."
"You think I've gone around the bend?" Troy asked angrily.
"You're serious?" Jenna asked. "The CIA… Really? The CIA really asked you to spy on Raymond Harris?"
"They really asked me to spy on Raymond Harris."
"Why?"
"They came to me at the Marriott last time I was in town. They wanted to know whether Harris had ever said anything about PMCs being used to overthrow and control countries."
"We've all heard him talk about that." Jenna nodded. "That's just Harris being Harris."
"I agree. That's what I told them. I said I could name a half dozen countries that are already run by a PMC. But then they said that they suspected Harris wanted to overthrow the United States."
"What kind of proof did they have?" Jenna asked suspiciously.
"None."
"Great." She laughed. "So y'all agreed to spy on him, even though your CIA pals didn't have any proof"
"No. Not then. I told 'em that a lot of people say things about politicians, and that what they were saying was paranoid bullshit."
"Sure sounds like it to me." Jenna nodded.
"So they left, and I didn't think about it much until a few weeks or so after I got out to Cactus Flat. Harris showed up and started talking about exactly what they said he was going to do."
"That's when you decided to break into his office?" "No, I had another meeting with the spooks in Vegas."
"Then you decided to break into his office?"
"Yeah."
"Okay… so now we're back to the place where you were gonna tell me what you found."
"There was a blue folder that talked about something called The Transition, presumably because it's about a transition from an elected government to an outsourced management like they're doing right now."
"It's not something they're doing in secret," Jenna said. "It's not something that's being done in the dead of night. This is just about as fall-into-broad-daylight as you can get."
"I'm no student of history, but I think I remember that this is how Hitler got in," Troy said. "The German government got into such a fix that they just brought him in, and the people were okay with it."
"And they sure got 'it," " Jenna said. "But I can't see Harris—"
"This blue folder went on to say that if the politicians didn't give the PMCs what they wanted, they'd be ready to take it by force."
"How could they?"
"Think about it, Munrough," Troy insisted. "The PMCs have all the guns now. The armed forces out-sourced so much that they hardly have any assets. They're just management agencies. The generals are nothing but paper-pushers running PMC contracts. When the PMCs take over the government, the PMCs will be running the PMC contracts. This country won't have armed services anymore."
"The PMCs pay a lot better," Jenna reminded him. "It's better for the folks doing the work."
"This is not a joke," Troy insisted. "The PMCs could take over… they could walk over the United States armed services. Kynelty's Cernavoda has more, and newer APCs and main battle tanks than the U. S. Army. We both know that Firehawk is better equipped than the Air Force."
"Yeah," Jenna agreed. "I know that most of the F-22s and F-16s have been transferred to Firehawk squadrons, and there's that new plane that Las being tested by the HAWX Program out in Nevada. You must know about that one."
"Raven. I heard that it's called Raven, but I didn't have anything to do with it. It was kept under wraps. I'm surprised that you've heard about it. Most people at Cactus Flat didn't even know about it. What have you heard?"
"Not much." Jenna shrugged. "Just the usual prattle around the watercoolers at Firehawk. I heard it was very fast… And I heard that they brought a demonstrator in to Andrews Air Force Base last week."
"That can't be good," Troy said.
"There's a fine line between paranoia and—" "This ain't paranoia," Troy insisted.
"What do your CIA spook friends think of Harris trying to kill you?"
"I haven't told them."
"What? Why not?"
"I've been back in the United States for less than eight hours… I wanted to see you first."
"I'm touched." Jenna smiled.
Chapter 46
"Hi," the voice said cheerfully. "I can't come to the phone, but please leave your name and number and the time you called, and I'll get back to you."
Eight times in four days, Troy had found a pay phone and had made a call. Eight times in four days, Troy had listened to the message and hung up without leaving one of his own.
Where was Nagte, or whatever his name was?
Ifthe CIA was so damned anxious to be contacted, why didn't they do a better job of manning their phones?
If he could have, he would have done as he had with Jenna Munrough. If he had known where Nagte was, or any of the other, nameless CIA spooks, he would have staked them out and contacted them face-to-face.
Troy had left Jenna's apartment with a distinct sense that she still considered him a paranoid nutcase, interpreting the noble intentions of Raymond Harris as a sinister scheme.
She had agreed to tell no one of their meeting, and he trusted that she would not — at least most of him trusted that she would not.
She had not, however, invited him to stay the night. When he had gone to see her, at least part of him had been yearning for that, but the frostiness of their previous meeting still remained as a barrier to the renewal of the sparks that once had flown between them. Hal Coughlin was still the unseen but strongly felt third presence in the room whenever Troy and Jenna were together.
Today, however, Troy was not in the room with Jenna. He was in a crowded elevator in an office building on Washington's "Lobbyist Gulch."
Hardly anyone noticed Troy — not that people do anything but conspicuously ignore one another in crowded elevators — but he could tell that they all were noticing what he was carrying. It was nearly lunchtime, and he was carrying two large, steaming pizzas with extra meat and extra cheese.
Once, the U. S. Air Force had trusted him with eight figures' worth of high-tech airplane. Today — his second on the job — Mr. Mahmud had trusted him to deliver two large pizzas.
There are actually many places in Washington, D. C., or any major city, where someone who doesn't want to share his true identity can find a job. Such was the case with Troy when he realized that his money was running short, and he saw the HELP WANTED sign in Mr. Mahmud's window. It was a small place with just three tables, but being in the proximity of K Street, it did an enormous takeout business. The only question Mahmud asked was, "When can you start?"
Troy wondered if he had made the right decision to come to Washington. If he had chosen to keep the Los Angeles ticket, would things be any different? He would still be dead — unless he wanted Harris to know that he wasn't. At least his parents had access to his bank account — they had inherited it — and he wouldn't have to be delivering pizzas.
He made the decision to come to Washington because he was obsessed with confronting and stopping Harris, but he had no plan.
How?
When?
Where?
Troy wished that he had gone to the Capitol on the day when Harris was testifying before Congress. He could have just walked up to him in front of a dozen television cameras.
He could see the headlines, and he could imagine the creepers on the news channel screens.
Firehawk Hero Confronts Firehawk Boss.
Did Firehawk CEO Attempt to Murder Firehawk Hero? Would they even bother to figure out who Troy was before Firehawk security hustled him away?