Search and Destroy by JT Sawyer (top non fiction books of all time .TXT) 📗

his shoe against the duffle bag brimming with cash on the floor. “Is that what this is?”

“Some of it. Some is from coke.”

“Cocaine…where?”

He nodded towards a large cabinet in the corner. “Hidden at the back.”

Shepard picked up the duffle bag then walked to the other side of the room, grabbing a set of car keys off the floor.

He flung open the cabinet door then removed a faux panel of plywood stained to match the rest of the wood. Behind it was a stack of four large packages of cellophane-wrapped cocaine. Wedged beside it were three palm-sized bricks of plastic explosives.

Cal glared back at the man. “So, this is where it all started. Right here in this room.”

He placed all of the items except one of the explosives into the duffle bag then zipped it up. He headed back to the man, waving the keys he’d picked up earlier. “Which vehicle?”

The man thrust his chin towards the back window. “Honda.”

Cal slid the man further back then opened the oven and placed the explosive on the bottom. He closed the door, dialing the temperature up to broil.

“What the fuck are you doing? I told you what you wanted.”

“So you should live and go back to what you were doing, slaughtering more people, is that it? Not on my watch.”

Shepard headed to the door, stepping around the cluster of bullet-riddled corpses then trotting down the stairs.

Making his way out the back door, he paused to look at a motorcycle parked near the trash barrels to the left. He recalled Carter’s comments about the mysterious figure who had fled the hospital after Reggie’s death.

Montoya…it had to be him, wrapping up what he started. He was probably behind the attack on the bridge too.

Son of a bitch must pay!

Cal got inside the Honda and sped down the street, watching a few blocks later as a red fireball filled the entire rearview mirror.

So, it begins.

35

Langley

Patterson walked past his petite secretary, who had a nervous expression that he wasn’t used to seeing. “He’s been waiting here for a while and wouldn’t take no for an answer, sir. I’m sorry.”

Patterson gave her a puzzled look, opening the door and stepping inside his office to see a welcome face across the room.

“This is a pleasant surprise…I think,” he said, staring at Colonel Ryan Foley, who stood up and shook his hand.

“After what’s happened lately, I thought you could use someone to talk to besides all the suits here,” said Foley. “Plus, I was just downstairs filling out some requisition forms for some new hardware for the SD units.”

Patterson nodded then moved to his leather seat while Foley stood near the window with his arms folded, scanning the streets below like he was on a recon mission.

“This bullshit with Shepard all over the news…how bad is the fallout?”

“How about catastrophic. It’s off the charts,” Patterson said, recounting what he knew about Shepard’s encounter with the FBI tac-team at his house then the meeting with Begley and the man’s revelations about his domestic-terrorism program.

“I’m willing to bet that Begley will use it as an excuse to defund our SD and other clandestine units. He came up from the intel side. He’s a politician, not a fighting man.”

“Worried about job security?” said Patterson with a slight grin.

“Hell with that. You know what I’m talking about, goddammit. People like Begley would have all of Langley refitted with analysts and phase out guys like you, me and the others.”

“I fear that Begley may be right—that we are on the edge of a new era of warfighters, and Perseus is just one sign of the tech that is coming. I think that in a few years we may be viewed as dinosaurs, my friend.”

“Speak for yourself, old-timer. I still plan to keep jumping out of planes until I’m a hundred.”

Patterson chuckled. “So, for another ten years then?”

“Look who’s talking, you creaky old bastard. Your knees sound like the rusty hinges on a barn door whenever you walk.”

“That’s from carrying your ass too many times when you got shot.” He missed the easy banter that sprung up between him and Foley, which had its roots in over twenty years of sweating and bleeding together on grueling missions in countless war-torn regions that had become a blur for both of them.

Foley leaned forward, his face growing taut. “You really think Begley was just gonna let you have full control of that Perseus software? He’s an ambitious son of a bitch with a shitload of compartmentalized shadow-ops programs, from what I know. My guess is he only signed it over to the agency here until he saw how it initially performed. If it tanked, then he’s got you and yours to blame. But if it’s the revolutionary shit you say it is, then he was going to appropriate it for his own little crew of anointed analysts, and I’m not so sure that having something like that in the hands of a fucking cake-eater like him is a good idea.”

“I’m not actually certain how much intel he actually gets across his desk anymore, to be honest…or at least how much of it he reads in its entirety. He leaves that to people like me and other higher-ups across the different agencies. Begley spends most of his time in oversight committees and coordinating inter-agency matters.”

“I think the other term for that is pissin’ away taxpayer dollars.”

Patterson rubbed the back of his neck. “How’s Viper doing? Her leg recover after that mission in Algeria with Shepard last spring?” Patterson was referring to the lone female operator in Shepard’s SD unit, who had suffered a gruesome rifle wound to her left quadriceps, temporarily delisting her from fieldwork.

“Physically, she’s made an amazing comeback, but she won’t be climbing any mountains, at least not for a while. You know her though…she was trying to go jogging a month after returning.”

“Sounds like Viper.”

“Mentally, she’s having a hard time adjusting to being back in the States full time. I got her a temporary position