“Take my money,” Cliff said. “I don’t have much, though.”
The woman laughed. “You gotta be the dumbest mother fucker in Oregon.”
Cliff shrugged. “What?”
“Like we really want cash from you.” She considered pulling out her I.D. and flashing it in his face, but then thought of something better. “We would like the final account where you just sent that half a million bucks.”
Cliff’s eyes shot up at her, confused. “What million bucks?”
“Now, Cliff,” she said.
The car careened through the intersection, turning sharply left, sliding Cliff into Agent Harris.
She continued, “I said half a million.”
“Oh…”
“I hadn’t even included the half a million you transferred this morning in Bend. But now that you brought it up, let’s find out about that as well.”
He sunk into his seat. “Who the hell are you?”
“Eugene cops got her out on I-5 heading north,” the driver said. “They’re holding back, waiting for us to catch up.”
The car rounded the on ramp to the interstate and picked up speed.
Suddenly, there was a light that seemed to go on in Cliff’s brain. He was sitting right behind the driver, so he couldn’t see the man’s face.
“What’s the matter, Cliff?” she asked. “You don’t look great. That’s what betraying your country will do to you.”
His head shot toward her. “What the fuck. You can’t.”
“Can’t what, Cliff? Prove that you took secret technology from Brightstar and took a payoff from the Asian woman driving in the white Trooper about a half mile ahead? That’s treason, my man. You’ll never see that money. Better yet, you’ll end up at the other end of a needle. Which, in my opinion, is too good for you. I was hoping you’d try to escape so I can shoot your ass.” She started reaching for her gun.
“Who the fuck are you?” Cliff yelled.
Agent Fisher turned his head to the back seat for an instant and then back to the highway. “A little more intense than life behind the cubicle, hey Cliff?”
“Steve? Steve Lempi?” Cliff said. “What the. ?”
“Actually,” the driver said, “you might want to start calling me by my real name, Drew Fisher. I’m with the Agency.”
“A journalist?” Cliff asked, confused.
“No, you dumb fuck. The Agency.” He emphasized both words.
Harris shook her head. “I thought you said he was a brilliant programmer?”
Fisher shrugged his shoulders.
“Wait a minute,” Cliff said. “You worked in Group Five.”
“Yeah,” Fisher said. “And my mother was the Tooth Fairy.”
“She was,” Harris said.
“You know what I mean.”
The light bulb got brighter in Cliff’s brain. “Shit!”
“Don’t get too close,” Harris said, tapping her hand on the driver’s seat.
“I’ll tell you what,” Fisher said. “I’ll drive and you take care of Butthead.”
“Deal.” She swung her left hand, catching Cliff in the forehead and knocking him back against the seat.
When Cliff recovered, he said, “What the hell was that for?”
“That’s for the next lie that comes out of your mouth. I just wanted to get ahead of the game.”
“You’re a sick bitch.”
She went to hit him and he jerked his head back, bashing it against the side window.
“Hey,” Fisher said. “We might need him to testify.”
“I didn’t do that,” she pleaded.
“Sure.”
The car stayed back, leaving a large pickup truck blocking their view of the Trooper a few cars up the road.
“Where’s she going, Cliff?” Harris asked him.
“How should I know?” He put his hands in front of his face and then peered out between his fingers before lowering his guard.
“You are the worst liar,” she said. Then her phone rang and she pulled it from her inside pocket and simply said, “Harris.”
She listened carefully, and then said, “How long?” Pause. “We’ve got him right here.” Her eyes considered Cliff more seriously. “Thanks.” She slowly flipped the phone shut and returned it to her pocket.
“Who was that?” Fisher asked.
She hesitated and then said, “Portland. It seems our man here is now an accessory to murder.”
Cliff pulled forward against his seat belt. “I had nothing to do with killin’ Jimmy.”
Now she was confused. “Did I say Jimmy?”
“She killed him for no reason,” Cliff said, tears growing in his eyes again. “Shot him for no reason. Bam.
Bam.”
“Shit!”
Fisher turned for a moment to look at his partner. “What’s up?”
“Just a minute.” She pulled out her phone again and punched in a number. A couple seconds later she said, “Yeah, this dirtbag is with us. Better get in there.” She listened for a moment and then said, “You did? Same as Bend? Thanks.”
The car pulled out into the fast lane and passed a slower truck. Then Fisher pulled into the right lane and settled back, the white Trooper three cars ahead.
“Talk to me, Harris,” Fisher said.
“Two counts of murder,” she said to him.
Cliff was terminally confused now. “There was just Jimmy,” he said.
She wanted to smack him again. “Jimmy took one to the chest and one to the forehead. Your friend Zack Evans in Bend took one to the back of the head at close range.”
Cliff turned white and sunk deep into his seat. His two best friend’s were dead because he had wanted to spend a couple extra days with Li. He couldn’t believe it. When the tears came, he could do nothing to stop them.
27
Two airmen had died on the tarmac when the plane arrived. Senior Airman Cato, a nineteen year old from Del Rio, Texas had been the first to die, taking a single round to the forehead. The other to die was Sergeant Temple, a security policeman from Fresno.
The lone gunman had still not been identified.
The entire detachment of special agents from the Air Force Office of Special Investigations from Elmendorf Air Base in Anchorage had caught a flight and were conducting the investigation. But, Colonel Powers knew there would be more to come, he was sure.
The colonel was in his office behind his desk, making the OSI agent wait in the outer office. He didn’t like the cocky special agents, who didn’t wear the Air Force uniform, and could have been a sergeant or a captain. Thank God for his new computer system, he thought. While the man waited outside, he had pulled up the agent’s record. He was a Captain Dave Eyler, the detachment commander in Elmendorf. What he didn’t know, though, was the man who accompanied him. He had simply flashed a badge to his secretary.
He called his secretary and told her to send the two in, but remained behind his desk. He had no intention of letting the power of his position and rank be diminished by the two of them.
Dressed in suits, with pants tucked into Sorels, the two agents came in and stood in front of the colonel’s desk. Captain Eyler was short and stocky with a beard that was long even for an OSI special agent. The man to his left was a tall, thin man with a chiseled jaw that jutted out like that cartoon Canadian Mountie.
The colonel considered them in silence. Then he waved his hand toward two cushioned chairs. “Take a seat.” It wasn’t a request.
They sat and the captain pulled out a small notebook, flipping a few pages.
“Anything on the shooter?” Colonel Powers asked.
The two men looked at each other. The captain was about to speak, but was halted by the colonel standing and approaching them.
“First of all,” the colonel said. “I like to know who I’m talking with. Let’s see some I.D.” He stood there with his hands out.