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  “Have a nice day, ma'am,” the guard said, tipping his hat.

  Jenkins nodded her appreciation and drove through the gate. It was important for her to keep a low profile. After what she had learned from Ellis, she knew she had to remain as low-key as possible until the storm blew over. In this case she declined conversing to not give the security guard anything to remember her by. As far as he needed to be concerned, she was just another government employee with access to the south hangars.

  Once inside she parked her Tahoe fifteen yards from the Gulfstream and turned off the engine. She remained inside the vehicle watching the Transportation Security Administration, commonly known as the TSA, inspect the plane and check flight manifests. It was typical government overreach. She knew the public would feel a whole lot better if the process was privatized and not run by the federal government. It would certainly become more streamlined, practical, and efficient. All one had to do was compare the United States Postal Service with Federal Express to determine whether the government could run and operate an industry at a higher standard than the private sector. In her mind it wasn’t even close.

  At the top of the steps that led to the aircraft door, Reddic was fighting his way through the demonstrative objections of a TSA agent shouting at him and descended the steps. At the bottom Reddic turned, shouted something back, and ran over to the Tahoe.

  “What was that all about?” Jenkins asked as he jumped into the passenger seat.

  “I can't stand those guys,” Reddic said. “I can't believe they're hassling private planes now here in DC. He wanted me to remain on board until his inspection was complete. What a joke. I simply told him I had other plans.”

  Jenkins smiled as Reddic described his encounter. He was her prized recruit. He was naturally rough around the edges and had little patience for incompetence. That was what made him extremely good at what he did.

  “Well, now that that’s out of your system, where’s Hansen?” Jenkins asked. The question seemed to put them both at ease. No longer did they have to speak in code.

  “Still on the plane,” Reddic said. “With my brother.”

  “Really,” Jenkins responded, arching her eyebrow. “Is that going to be a problem?”

  “Don't be silly,” he said defensively. “She's more his type anyway. And his age.”

  “I was referring to his clearance, or lack thereof,” Jenkins responded coyly. “But clearly you're not used to not getting what you want. This is actually quite humorous.”

  “Yeah, yeah, the joke's on me,” Reddic said, dismissing her attempt to embarrass him. “She is quite bright, you know. She explained to us what this whole mess is over. She is working on essentially creating a new hydrogen particle that puts a single electron and proton in close proximity. According to her models, the result would be unprecedented energy at a fraction of the cost. Completely renewable too. But what's most interesting is that this was her baby. She conceived the idea, she did the tests, she wrote the papers. Her colleague, William Feldman, was asked to come on board to help sway the ultra-skeptical physics community.”

  Reddic paused to gather his thoughts. Jenkins knew not to press him too hard. He was searching for the right words to use.

  “She’s scared out of her mind right now,” he said. “She thinks that Feldman was being used to get to her research. She doesn't know who to trust right now outside of Jaxon and me, but I can't keep her with me any longer. I can't get my hands dirty with her around, if you know what I mean.”

  “So, you want me to take care of her,” Jenkins offered, more as a statement than a question.

  “She needs a secure place to finish her research. She has all her files and data with her. Until we know for sure who is after her, I think it's best for her to stay underground and only worry about changing the way the world uses energy.”

  “I can arrange that. What else do you have?”

  “Well, two things actually. I stumbled upon a Russian handler after I spoke with you on the phone. He mentioned General Travnikov as being his superior. Industrial espionage is not new, we both know that. There’s just something off with these Russians being here.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “What if it’s a diversion, meant to throw us off the scent?”

  “Interesting. You think it’s an orchestrated event. To tell you the truth I’m starting to feel the same way. I put in a call to Langley and asked if they’ve heard any Russian chatter. Their response was negative. I agree that something’s not right.”

  “Well, I’ll leave that angle up to you. In the meantime, Jaxon has a much more, how shall I say, interesting theory about who may really be after Brooke.”

  “More history?” Jenkins asked. She knew all about Reddic's older brother and his reputation as an historian. She also recognized his usefulness. It was Jaxon who was instrumental in helping Reddic take down the infamous, and now deceased terrorist Khalid Hassan. Despite her comment about his lack of clearance, she knew Reddic trusted him with his life. So long as he didn't reveal anything he didn't absolutely have to know she tolerated Reddic revealing certain details that he would not have otherwise.

  “Yeah, and as of now it’s our best lead, in my opinion,” Reddic said.

  “I trust your judgment. If you believe there is something to what your brother has discovered, then you should pursue it.”

  “So, what do you have for me?” Reddic asked.

  “I found the mole at the NSA,” Jenkins replied. “His name is Peter Ellis. He’s secure in my office.”

  “Has he said anything?”

  “Yes and no. As we drove to my office, he had quite the story to tell. He told me that not too long ago he was a mid-level analyst at the NSA, going through a divorce, an emotional midlife crisis. One day he received an intra-office email from his superior scheduling a time to meet. Ellis believed he was going to be fired. As he entered his boss's office, the boss simply looked up and handed him a sealed envelope. The boss told him that he was asked to deliver it personally, but that he didn’t know what it contained.

  “This made Ellis even more hysterical. He believed that his employment termination papers were inside the envelope and his boss didn't have the guts to tell him to his face. For hours he refused to open it. Then, toward the end of his shift, he relented and broke the seal. Inside was a handwritten note.” Jenkins fished out a folded piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Reddic.

  “Is this the letter?” he asked.

  “No. Ellis destroyed it after he read it. I had him write down what he remembered.”

  Reddic read the note three times before handing it back.

  Despair not in your current plight. The Priest sees great worth in your existence. Come worship and start your life anew.

  Reddic's thoughts were stuck on the reference to the Priest, but he needed to hear what else Ellis had revealed to Jenkins before pressing that matter.

  “Go on,” he said at last.

  “Ellis thought the note was a message from God. After work he went to church.”

  “What church?” Reddic asked.

  “A Catholic church, I think,” she said.

  “No, I mean, where was the church located?”

  “Hmm,” she replied. “I don't think I asked. When I get back to the office I'll find out.”

  “Let me know when you find out. Keep going with the story.”

  “Right, so Ellis went to church and found the only confessional booth open and began recanting his sins. It was at this point that the clergyman introduced himself ambiguously as the Priest and told Ellis that God made their paths cross. Then he dangled a carrot in front of him by claiming that if Ellis swore his allegiance, he would change his life.

  “Ellis was skeptical and said he had to think about it. He was not a very religious man and was naturally cautious when it came to religious devotion. The next day at work he was promoted to senior analyst, given level four classification, and had his debts wiped clean.
Ellis thought it was a miracle. As soon as his shift ended, he rushed back to church, to the same confessional, and thanked the Priest. He asked what he could do to show his gratitude. That was when the Priest began to teach him about what Ellis called, ‘the brotherhood’. At this point Ellis was completely seduced by what this priest was selling.”

  “Madison,” Reddic interrupted excitedly. “This is exactly what Jaxon is researching. The two brotherhoods, also called the secret darkness. This can’t be a coincidence. What else did he say?”

  “Well, sadly, that's about all I know. I had to leave him to meet you here. He did say that the Priest has a rather menacing companion that is known as Mahan. Ellis thinks he's more than a bodyguard. He mentioned the word assassin. He was present when Ellis made his oath with the Priest.”

  “You're definitely on to something now,” Reddic said. “Did he describe this assassin?”

  “Loosely. Five-ten. Muscular. Dark eyes, almost black. Short hair. He did specifically point out he had a tattoo on his right arm. He said it was some sort of cross. I will need to follow up on that.”

  “Anything else?”

  “We stopped by his bank before I came here. He allegedly has documents that can lead to the Priest.”

  Reddic reached for the door handle and pulled it toward him. He pushed the door open and placed his right foot on the concrete floor of the hangar.

  “Call me after you've finished interrogating Ellis and give me all the details he has to offer,” he said. “Jaxon and I are going to run down this lead. Perhaps with what we both find we can finally put an end to this madness.”

  “Reddic,” Jenkins called out before the door closed. She wanted to tell him to be careful, to not underestimate the Priest, to not take any unneeded risks, but knew she couldn't. She feared losing his respect by showing too much emotion. Instead she offered the only two words that would suffice for the moment.

  “Good luck.”

  27

  Madison Jenkins was not one to normally act out of fear. The only reason she was able to climb the ladder in the world of espionage, which was dominated by men, was because of her analytical and calculating persona. Today, however, was not a normal day. She earned a reputation during her days in the CIA as being prescient; capable of staying a step ahead of the game at all times.

  After her conversation with Reddic it was clear that she was at least one step behind. There was a group of individuals secretly operating in the dark beyond the view of her organization. Having lived in Washington DC for some time now, Jenkins had a pretty good grasp on the manipulative nature of politics. Politicians and staffers alike would do anything short of overt career suicide to further their own agendas, but what EOS was investigating went beyond anything political. It was as if they were chasing a shadow; a shadow that was well-organized, well-funded, and most concerning of all, had teeth.

  Jenkins weaved in and out of traffic, constantly checking her mirrors, making random turns, and changing her speeds. On a very small scale she was learning what it must be like for her operatives to function on a daily basis. She was on edge, a feeling that in part was exhilarating, yet simultaneously maddening. However, today was not the time for her to act cavalier. Her passenger was too important, as was her work, so Jenkins was not about to make a mistake out of carelessness.

  She stole a quick glimpse at Brooke riding in the passenger seat and noticed that she was completely unaware of the way they were driving. She simply stared out the window blankly. Jenkins wondered if Brooke knew who Reddic really was. In other words, did she have any clue that he was a spy masquerading as a professional basketball player. Did she have any idea that he didn't just craft his athletic skills, but that he had been in some nasty situations and has had to kill out of necessity? More importantly, did she know that he would not hesitate to do so again if it meant protecting the country?

  Jenkins already knew the answer to her own questions. It was improbable that Brooke truly knew him. Sure, she may have seen him in action, but if there was one thing that Jenkins knew about Reddic, it was that he compartmentalized like nobody she had ever encountered. In a way it was almost unreal. Jenkins sometimes found it difficult to excel at her own career, which was quite singular. She couldn't imagine excelling at two distinct careers as her top operative did.

  “So, I understand that you and Reddic first met under unusual circumstances,” Jenkins offered. She hoped to break the ice as they had driven for fifteen minutes without uttering a single word to one another.

  Brooke flashed a quizzical look at Jenkins but didn't respond.

  “Did he tell you who I am?” Jenkins asked.

  Brooke shrugged her shoulders before replying. “All he said was that I could trust you.”

  “Well I certainly hope so. After all, I am his boss.” Jenkins pulled her eyes off the road and watched Brooke closely. A brief look of surprise swept over her face, quickly followed by suspicion.

  “I don't know if I'd believe it either,” Jenkins said. “But one thing is for sure, if not for me sending Reddic to your house to extract you, you wouldn't be here.”

  That did it. That was the breaking point. Brooke wore her emotions on her sleeve. She clearly wanted to believe Jenkins. She wanted to trust in her, to confide in her. All she needed was a glimmer of hope, which is precisely what Jenkins offered.

  “What's going to happen to me?” Brooke asked solemnly.

  “The first thing you need to know is that you're safe with me. Reddic didn't think traveling with him was that safe any longer. I'm taking you to my office. We can talk about our plan once we get there. I just wanted you to know that you can feel safe with me. I am going to take care of you until we get all this figured out.”

  Brooke nodded soberly. “If I'd known that my research would cause so much harm...” Her words trailed off as her gaze found the window once more.

  Jenkins didn't feel the need to respond. Brooke needed time to sort out her issues before they reached her office. Once they arrived, the time for self-loathing and emotion would be long past.

  Jenkins pulled her Tahoe into the secure underground parking garage beneath the L Street Planned Parenthood building. Following security protocol, she again waited for the garage door to completely close before turning off her vehicle. Brooke followed her out of the SUV to the door leading to her office. Jenkins punched in her access code and pulled the door open.

  As they stepped into the anteroom Jenkins suddenly reached out and pushed Brooke against the wall, signaling for her to be quiet. She pulled a Berretta .380 from her purse and silently chambered a round.

  “I left somebody here,” she whispered. “I don't see him, and my office door is open. Something's not right.”

  Jenkins slid across the wall to the entrance to her office space. She swung into the entryway with her gun leveled in front of her. Her desk chair was turned facing away toward the wall. There was somebody sitting there, she just couldn't make out who it was. She hoped it was Ellis, but somehow, she doubted it. She distinctively remembered locking her office door before she left. Plus, he would know better than to go snooping around her office.

  “Turn around slowly with your hands out where I can see them,” Jenkins commanded. Her right index finger found the trigger and curled around it. Although Jenkins had fired thousands of rounds in the range, she had never actually shot at somebody. Her breathing was surprisingly steady considering the circumstances.

  Her chair swiveled silently toward her. She gasped when she saw a man sitting in it wearing a dark hooded robe that concealed most of his face. Jenkins heard a noise to her right in the conference room and ignored it. She couldn't take her eyes off the man who was sitting before her.

  “I don't understand,” she managed to say. “What is going on?” She held the gun tightly with both hands now. The sight of this man in her office was not just unexpected, it was flat-out frightening.

  “Who are you?”

  “You will learn soon enough,�
� the man said.

  The voice. She recognized it. Who was it? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. If she could get him to talk some more, she could flush it out. Jenkins was about to ask another question when his gaze cut to the door, causing her to follow his line of sight. Brooke stood in the doorway with a short but powerful man behind her, clutching her neck. Jenkins immediately knew who he was. He was the assassin that Ellis had described to her.

  “Where is the man I left in my office?” Jenkins asked.

  “We know all about Ellis,” the assassin said. “I'm surprised that you didn't notice the surveillance outside the cafe. But then again, you're not exactly a field agent.”

  Jenkins suddenly felt fear surge through her limbs. They knew she would go after Ellis and were waiting for her. It was a trap and she walked right into it. And she compounded the error by bringing Brooke back to her office. She wondered if they were onto Reddic as well.

  Her mind raced as she searched for a way out of the quandary she found herself in. Her heart sank as she scanned the room. There was only one way out, and the assassin was blocking it. She inhaled deeply and prepared for probably the least logical course of action of her life. She was going to shoot her way out.

  Then, without warning, the assassin pushed Brooke forcefully in her direction. Brooke lost her balance and stumbled forward, reaching out for Jenkin's shoulders to stabilize herself.

  She knew what was happening but didn't have the strength to stop it. Brooke was being used as a human shield. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the assassin coming at her in what looked like a blur. That was the last thing she remembered before everything went black.

  28

  On any given day the address 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue was the center of the universe. The official name was the Executive Office of the President of the United States, but everybody knew it simply as the White House. It was the nation’s symbol of power and prestige, as it has been the official residence of every United States president since John Adams in the year 1800.