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

“Please, I didn’t know they were going to use it for that. I was just the intel guy on this. They told me to keep track of Burke’s program. I knew he was doing surveillance runs with our satellites over Venezuela. How was I supposed to know that he stumbled across Montoya in Caracas? That’s what set all of this into motion.”

“You say it like you’re at a fucking debrief. These were friends of mine, good people, and my pregnant wife.”

“God, I’m sorry. I just didn’t know they were willing to go this far.”

“Listen to you, passing the buck. Now I can see why you’re a star employee of the federal government.”

Shepard glanced at the service awards mounted in frames around the room. “It must have been you who leaked my identity to the press and the Feds then. Only you would have had access to that information from the meeting with Burke and the others at the Pentagon.”

“It wasn’t me, I swear.”

“Who then?”

“Michele Henderson…works for Hunley as a hacker. Not sure where she got the information.”

“Hunley…he works for Roth?”

“They work together. Adam Hunley was the former ambassador to Colombia. He’s the one who brought in Montoya and his crew to do the dirty work.”

He stood up, retrieving the duffle bag from the floor, the soothing images of Monument Valley from the Western on the TV screen a stark contrast to the seething emotions beneath the surface of the trained killer in the room.

“Get up,” he snapped, yanking Rourke by his arm and shoving him towards his desk in the corner. “Pull up the imagery for Roth’s ranch in Texas. I’m sure being the NSA guy you are, you probably already reconned the hell out of it in case you had to turn on the guy.”

Rourke felt nauseous, sweat forming on his brow as he stumbled over to his desk chair, opening his laptop.

If Shepard can be reasoned with and told the truth about what’s unfolded, that’ll hopefully defuse him. I have to play this right. He’s just desperate for answers, and maybe I can talk him down.

Rourke rubbed his hand on his pants again, feeling like his headache had turned into a Category 5 migraine about to shear off the top of his skull. He typed in the password then retrieved the topographic and satellite maps for Roth’s property and a few others. Shepard handed him a flash drive then told him to also print off copies.

“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, just please let me go.”

“What happened to Perseus? Where’s all the hardware that was stolen from Burke’s company?”

Rourke’s face contorted. “I have no fucking clue. I only heard about it from Jason Begley, who’s been conducting an investigation with those of us who knew what Burke was doing. Whoever did that had it all planned out way in advance. Maybe Montoya had a team.”

“And these guys, Roth and Hunley, are they at the ranch in Texas now?”

“Roth is. I spoke to him this morning. Hunley’s due back from his place in Georgia soon. He’s hosting one final fundraiser for Rimaldi with the exiled Venezuelans living in Atlanta. Without Rimaldi, Roth can’t start drilling operations.”

“Rimaldi—Ernesto Rimaldi, the presidential candidate?” Shepard’s eyes darted along the floor. “So, he’s on their payroll…that’s what the hell this is all about. They’re implementing a coup to install him so that Roth has a foothold in the oil fields down there. That’s why Perseus flagged all of this. Montoya’s presence in Caracas just set the ball rolling.”

Shepard jabbed the pistol into Rourke’s ribs. “Milo Gardner, the station chief for Venezuela—is he tied up in all of this too?”

“Gardner? No. Not that I’m aware of, although you never know who the hell’s on Hunley’s payroll. They’re sinking billions into this election. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve got some of the military officers in on it.”

Rourke gave a hearty nod, tugging at his shirt collar as he continued to sweat profusely. “See, I told you I can help you. We can work something out. You haven’t killed me yet, so there must be something else you need, right?”

Shepard lowered the pistol as Rourke collapsed further back into his seat, wheezing.

“You were dead the second you opened the front door. With the digitalis on the handle and in the whiskey bottle on the counter, I’m surprised your heart lasted this long.”

Rourke looked down at his beet-red hand, which felt like it was being dragged across hot coals. His shoulder began tightening, the pain shooting down his arm as his chest began throbbing.

“What the…what did you do?” He felt winded after each word, his ribs compressing as his heart raced wildly.

Shepard slid the man’s chair back, then he unzipped the duffle bag, placing it on the desk. The sight of stacks of hundred-dollar bills was enough to make Rourke’s heart race further.

Shepard glanced down at the bundles of money, which were dappled with blood from the carnage at the cartel safehouse. “You’re too smart to have a digital trail from your financial exchanges with Roth and Hunley, which is why I need to make sure the Feds link you to Landis’ death and the Colombians. It seems like you were a master at covering your tracks, Tim. Just too bad that your poor health caught up with you.”

Shepard retrieved the flash drive and printed maps then turned off the computer.

“What? I… I…” Rourke clutched his chest with both hands, his face contorting as he gasped. He slumped back, his cheeks becoming ashen. He watched Shepard walk to the front door and wipe down the knob then return to the kitchen, where he dumped the whiskey into the sink and rinsed out the bottle and glass.

Rourke felt the room begin to spin. The image of Shepard exiting the back door grew dim as he fought to hold on to his last breath before his eyes rolled backwards and his chest collapsed.

Shepard walked the three blocks back to the stolen pickup truck he’d acquired