Monday late evening: FBI Headquarters-Billings Montana

Special Agents Andrews and Burk sat in silence at a long mahogany table in a conference room at the FBI Headquarters inside the J. Edgar Hoover Building in Billings. They didn’t have to wait for Rainhorse to call in their position. Agent Zager from Andrews’ team was monitoring the movements on their vehicle. When the vehicles stopped in the middle of nowhere, Zager tried to reach Andrews, then Burk.  When neither of them answered, he called in the cavalry.

Twenty minutes later a helicopter arrived. Because of the time crunch, Andrews, Burk and both Agents gave audio statements during the helicopter flight to Billings, describing the events that transpired. Those statements were given to the FBI Director, the President, the Secretary of Defense, and Homeland Security. They now awaited video debriefing on a secure channel from the Director of the FBI himself, along with the Secretary of Defense.

Andrews ran through everything in his head over and over, preparing for what he assumed would be the most humiliating debriefing of his life that would result in a demotion, if not an outright dismissal. He looked at Burk who was nervously shaking her knee.  She reminded Andrews of a schoolgirl who'd been caught smoking in the bathroom and was waiting for the principal to arrive.

She checked her watch and tapped the table, “This is bullshit, making us wait. They will rip our ass.”

“We deserve it,” Andrews said.

“What do you mean, ‘we’?” she snapped. “This whole thing is on you. It was your idea.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” Andrews snapped back. “You may recall, you were part of the original party to approach me about the idea. I argued against it.”

“Don’t blow that stink back in my direction. I going to lose my position as FBI Director Chief of Staff because of you,” she barked. “Fuck you.”

“Right back at you, sweetheart,” he replied.

Burk crossed her arms and sighed, stewing, “So... do you think we’re fired?”

“I don’t know... demoted for sure,” Andrews replied. “Depends on how quickly they find him... if they find him.”

“Shit, they’ll never find the man,” Burk said. “I read his file and talked to the analysts that put it together. He knows how to disappear like few others.”

“I believe that,” Andrews said, “but maybe, just maybe he is telling the truth.”

“You mean he'll find and take down Barnabas on his own?” she smirked. “That’s a fairy tale.”

“It’s time,” an FBI tech-type said as he entered the room. “I’m just going to turn on the monitor and make the connection and I’ll be on my way.”

Andrews turned to Burk and mouthed the words, “It’s show time,” to Burk. She gave him the finger.

Andrews’s felt blood rushing from his face as he saw the four men staring at him on the monitor. Looking at him were FBI Director Randall Rice and Deputy Director Daniel Bowman. Also, with them were two other men who Andrews had never met but recognized. All four men wore very serious expressions. Rice looked downright pissed.

“Thank you for joining us, Jim and Angela,” Bowman began. “Sorry to keep you out so late in the evening, but as you can imagine, time is of the essence. Director Rice is here along with Director of National Intelligence, David Coetzee and James Kelsey, the President’s Chief of Staff. I assume you know who they are.”

Andrews nodded, “I do. I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.”

Bowman leaned forward, “How are you holding up Angela?”

“I’m fine, Daniel,” she replied. She gave him a weak smile of vulnerability. It made Andrews want to puke.

“Good, good,” he said.

On the video feed Andrews heard a young FBI agent pecking on the door. Bowman saw him through the window. Bowman waved him in. The agent slipped into the room and slipped Bowman a note and vanished. Bowman read the note. He handed it to Rice.

“Four armed, well-trained agents were guarding one unarmed man,” National Intelligence Director Coetzee interjected. “Please explain to us how he escaped you.”

“It’s all in the report, sir,” Andrews replied.

“I’m not talking about the bullshit in your report,” Coetzee snapped.

“The man is a former special operations Ranger,” Andrews said. “He is skilled in hand-to-hand combat. He has a cat-like quickness and he is as strong as a bull elephant.”

“Why wasn’t he in cuffs?” Coetzee bellowed.

“It was part of an agreement the President signed off on...”

“Bullshit!” Coetzee exclaimed.

“Gentlemen, the clock is ticking here,” Director Rice interrupted. “We are where we are. Let’s focus on what lies ahead. We can discuss... repercussions later.”

“Where are we with the search for Barnabas Quince now?” Coetzee asked.

“There’s been a disturbing development?” Bowman asked.

“Jesus,” Bowman decried. “What now?”

“I received word we have found the body of Cicero,” Bowman said. “He is dead as we suspected. He was also tortured. We have to proceed as though he told Barnabas everything we knew about our operation.”

Rice rubbed his eyes, “Andrews, in your report, you said this Rainhorse character agreed that Barnabas was acquiring a nuclear weapon to set off on US soil.”

“He believes it, yes sir,” Andrews replied. “So do I. The big surprise is that Rainhorse believes it will all go down by Wednesday afternoon to coincide with the anniversary of his court-martial.”

Director Rice sighed, “And he offered no opinion as to the target city?”

“He threw out speculation. It was the same potential targets we came up with: LA, San Diego or Seattle.”

“Jesus Christ,” Coetzee scoffed.

“We have to begin evacuation plans,” Bowman gasped.

Rice sighed, “In the three of largest cities on the west coast, all at once? In two days? If you count the surrounding areas of those cities that’s twenty-five million people. Impossible.”

“He’s right,” Coetzee agreed. “It would be premature. Homeland Security believes Barnabas has not had the time to acquire, place and detonate a nuclear weapon by Wednesday. Given we know he’s in the process of accumulating large sums of money this week. The timeline is too thin, even for a man of Quince’s resources.”

 “Sir, if I may...” Andrews began.

“It’s more likely this man Rainhorse is trying to misdirect us,” Coetzee continued.

“I agree with you Director Coetzee,” Burk interjected. “Barnabas would like nothing more than to see the chaos surrounding the evacuation of three major cities. Rainhorse is in cahoots with Barnabas.”

“Rainhorse? In cahoots with Barnabas?” Andrews mocked. “Bullshit!”

“Why else would he run and not use us for help?” Burk fired back.

“Because of conversations like this one,” Andrews said. “We are sitting here pointing fingers at each other rather than out there tracking down leads. Rainhorse said this would happen—he was right.”

“I must agree with Agent Burk,” Coetzee said. “Were you aware that Neha Littlebird has gone missing?”

Andrews froze in his seat, “No, I wasn't. How do you know this?”

“We realized Rainhorse slipped through your fingers only a few hours by car from her home on the reservation,” Bowman interjected. “We thought he might try to reach out to her, so we sent agents.”

“And?”

“She was gone.”

“What about Lindsay Vanderbilt?”

“She was there, along with two other Cheyenne males. One of them was Rainhorse’s nephew. Our agents took both into custody.”

“You arrested both the men but not Lindsay?” Andrews asked.

“We elected to leave her and monitor her activities carefully in the event Rainhorse tried to contact her. The two Cheyenne men are former Navy SEALS,” Bowman said. “We thought they might aid Rainhorse, so we took them out of play. Lindsay Vanderbilt is not a flight risk.”

“What did Lindsay say to you?”

Bowman looked at the report.

“She said Neha had left earlier claiming to be headed for work. She runs a drug rehabilitation facility. But when we checked out the story, it turns out Neha Littlebird never made it to work. She’s never been called in as she claimed.”

“Did you trace her phone?”

“We did. She left her phone at home.”

Andrews felt as though he would be sick to his stomach.

“Agent Andrews, we have concluded that Rainhorse and Neha have met and are now making a run for it,” said Bowman. “We think there is a fair possibility that Neha Littlebird may have even been his accomplice and shot out your tires to help him escape.”

Andrews shook his head, “Impossible. Neha Littlebird is five-feet-two and weighs a hundred and fifteen pounds. The person helping Rainhorse was a good six-inches taller and fifty pounds heavier.”

“So, your report shows,” Coetzee said. “How do you account for Neha Littlebird’s disappearance?”

“I can’t,” he said. “I know Rainhorse will not run. His history shows that when he sets his mind to a task, he...”

“That’s enough,” Coetzee said. “Let’s move on. We believe it will take another sixty to ninety days for him to acquire, position and release the weapon.”

“With all due respect, sir, I disagree,” Andrews replied.

“Says the man who couldn’t hang on to one unarmed man,” Coetzee spat back.

“Go on, Agent Andrews?” Rice asked.

“Rainhorse told us that Quince works on razor thin, last-minute timelines to avoid detection. Rainhorse believes Barnabas can set up in advance: accumulate funds, purchase the weapon, place the weapon and set it off in a matter of days. I’ve studied his military record. He has a long history of pulling off complicated missions in short periods of time. Wednesday is the anniversary of Quince’s court-martial. It cannot be a coincidence.”

“What’s your take on this, Burk?” Coetzee interrupted.

“I think Rainhorse played us like a fiddle, and Andrews bought into it hook, line and sinker,” she replied. “He and Neha Littlebird are on the run. I tried to warn Andrews, but...”

“You were in the room when this interview took place, Burk, is that correct?” Coetzee asked.

“Yes sir,” she replied.

“And you didn’t buy his story?”

“No sir.”

“Then why the hell didn’t you do something about it?” Coetzee bellowed. “You have complicity in this debacle.”

“Sir, that’s not fair,” she countered. “I tried to...”

“Ok. I’ve heard enough,” interrupted James Kelsey, the President’s Chief of Staff. He had been sitting quietly, listening to the conversation, taking it all in. “We’re talking in circles. I need to call the President in the next fifteen minutes with an update. Agent Andrews?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I’ve read your file. You have had an impressive record... until now.  I’ve reviewed your cases and I’ve noticed your history of using your instincts to solve complicated puzzles. Losing Rainhorse is a major setback, no doubt about it. In most cases it’s a career-ending mistake.”

“I understand, sir.”

Kelsey leaned over the table and put on his reading glasses, looking down at his notepad, “Okay, here is where we are. We agree that Barnabas Quince intends to acquire a nuclear weapon and detonate it on US soil. We believe he has or will have the funding to do so and the motivation and balls to go through with it. There is not a consensus on where or when he might do this, but the most plausible information we have is that the target is Seattle, LA or San Diego with a timeline of two days to three months. Rainhorse has escaped custody and presumed to be in flight even though he has insisted he will find and stop Barnabas on his own.”

“Mr. Kelsey, we cannot believe or count on...” Coetzee began.

Kelsey cut Coetzee off with a paralyzing glare, “I’m not finished.”

Coetzee sighed, “Apologies.”

“We can’t evacuate these major cities because we are not sure if the target is actually there and even if it was, we don’t know if the timeline is two days or two months. We’ve lost our single resource into Barnabas’s organization. There is no further information coming in.  Do I have all of this about right?”

“Mr. Kelsey, if I may...” Coetzee began.

Kelsey raised his hand, “A simple yes or no will do, or a nod if you wish.”

Everyone in the room nodded.

“So... would we all agree that this is one major cluster-fuck?” Kelsey asked.

Everyone nodded enthusiastically.

“Good,” Kelsey said. “So, here is what we will do. Director Rice and Director Coetzee, you two will work together finding this character, Barnabas. I want to know where he is and who is selling this nuclear weapon to him. Cut off his drug trade and prevent him from getting this funding. I will make certain that any warrants you require are approved without question... immediately. So, tap whatever phones you need to tap, search whatever places you need to search, bug any offices that need bugging and detain, question and shake down anyone who might have a piece of this puzzle. We are in a state of emergency. We’re removing anything that might be considered an obstacle. Got it?”

Rice and Coetzee nodded.

“I’ll re-emphasize you two will work collaboratively. I’ll have none of this interdepartmental squabbling nonsense. If I even get a sniff that one of you is withholding information from the other, I’ll have both of you walking a beat issuing parking tickets on Pennsylvania Avenue in short pants. Understood?”

They both nodded again.

“And Andrews?”

“Yes sir?”

“Find Rainhorse, pronto.”

“Mr. Kelsey,” Rice interjected. “I have already signed a suspension order for Agent Andrews, pending an investigation. I cannot allow him to remain on this case.”

“You can and you will,” Kelsey barked. “I think Andrews may be on to something but he’s got to find Rainhorse. We know Rainhorse trusts him. We cannot and will not take him out of play. Burk, you’ll go with him.”

Burk’s mouth gaped open, “Sir, that’s a bad idea. I can’t stand working...”

“I don’t give a shit how you feel about him,” Kelsey interrupted. “You two work it out. Find Rainhorse. We are in a full state of emergency. I want to see both of your asses moving in the next five seconds. Now go!”

The line went dead, and the picture disappeared.

“Shit,” Burk said. “It looks like you and I are stuck with each...”

An electronic beep interrupted Burk’s comment. Andrews had hit the intercom.

“Evans,” he called out.

“Yes, I’m here,” came the reply.

“So am I, at least for the moment. I need you to get me the court transcripts for the court-martial of Barnabas Quince.  I also want you to find out who the prosecutor was and the judge panel and any key witnesses the prosecution had. Find out where these people are. I need this all yesterday. The clock is ticking. Use whatever resources you need.”

“On it,” came the reply.

“Also, I want you to pull the complete file workup on a Randolph Henson. He was reported killed in 2012. I want everything you have. Send it to my phone and tablet.”

“Right away.”

“Is Agent Zager with you?”

“Yes, he’s right here? I’ll put him on.”

“I’m here,” Zager responded.

“I want a phone monitored and recorded,” Andrews said. “Lindsay Vanderbilt. She is a person of interest in the whereabouts of Rainhorse.”

“That was ordered two hours ago,” Zager said.

“By who?”

“Assistant Director Bowman,” he replied. “Right after the raid.”

“Good. Call down and have them warm up the jet for me,” he said. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. I want all the information I asked for sent to my tablet before wheels up.”

Andrews ended the call and stood up, walking toward the door.

Burk looked at him incredulously, “What should I be doing?”

“I don’t give a damn,” he replied without turning around.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I’m paying a visit to Lindsay Vanderbilt.”

“I’m going with you,” she said.

“Suit yourself, but stay out of my way.”