September 16, 1998
AT PRECISELY ONE-THIRTY, A BLACK sedan pulls up in front of my apartment on the outskirts of DC. Close enough for the commute to Virginia, but far enough to enjoy the sights and sounds of the District of Columbia. Picking up my go bag, I lock my door and stride toward my ride. The driver opens the trunk and I toss the bag in. Opening the door, I slide across the leather seat and jump when I realize I’m not alone. Daniel sits beside me, his mouth curving into a sly smile. Reaching into his briefcase, he pulls out a Colt pocket hammerless .25 caliber ACP pistol and places it in my lap, along with a small black bag. “Didn’t think I was gonna let you leave without this, did you? I’m hoping you don’t need it, but I didn’t want you leaving without some reassurance.”
As the driver pulls away from the curb, I pick up the gun, noticing it’s much lighter than the ones I use at the range. Even though I’m in a special unit, we rarely have the need to carry a gun, but every six months, we’re recertified, just in case. “Anticipating a problem, are we?” I quip as I place the pistol in my purse.
“No, but you never know,” he admits, gazing out the window as we merge onto the freeway.
“I appreciate the concern.”
Shifting, he turns his entire body so he’s facing me. Distress swims in his eyes, but his face stays stoic. “Even though this should be a standard op, I want you to be careful. I don’t know if the building is bugged by other agencies, and I don’t know how deep this goes into Black Mountain.” There’s urgency in his voice. He’s worried, and I’m not sure why. I hope there isn’t something he’s not telling me, but it’s not like it would be the first time an agent gets sent on assignment without all the facts.
“I understand, sir,” I assure him.
“No, you don’t.” Running his hand through his short, military-cropped grey hair, he murmurs, “I’ve already lost one operative on a mundane assignment. It was years ago, but I’ll never forget it. One stupid mistake.” He sighs, then says, “I need you to stay focused.”
“Absolutely, sir. I have no intention of getting myself killed on my first big assignment.”
Chuckling, he nods. “That’s why I knew you’d be the right agent for the job.”
We ride in silence for the next ten minutes, the driver maneuvering around the busy streets until we arrive in front of Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport. I exit the car and Daniel scoots over to my seat. Opening the window, he reminds me, “Make sure you show TSA your credentials. Otherwise, they won’t let you carry your gun on the plane.”
“I know,” I mutter under my breath as I get my bag from the trunk. “Yes, sir,” I reply, making sure he can hear me.
“I put a burner phone in the black bag, along with some cash. Don’t try to contact me. I’ll contact you.” With that, the car pulls away into airport traffic.
I know the drill, and the last thing I want to do is blow my cover. The easiest way to do that is by making unsolicited contact with your handler. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I approach the early check-in desk. Once I’ve gotten my ticket, I weave my way through the impatient passengers staring at the large scrolling board trying to find their flights, and proceed to my gate.
My flight arrived in Rapid City without any issues. Shuffling down the ramp, I find the exit and flag down a taxi. According to my cover, I have an apartment fifteen minutes from Black Mountain, which is only a few minutes from the airport. I give the driver my address, and we pull away from the curb.
Locating the complex with ease, he pulls up in front of my temporary residence. I hand him a twenty, which is twelve dollars too much, and exit the cab. Finding the elevator, I slip into the closing doors and press my floor. As it whisks me up, I contemplate my next move. I have to be at Black Mountain tomorrow morning for orientation, and I need to figure out how to get Ethan Sawyer alone if I can’t get the information I need on his work computer. As the doors open, I decide I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
Throwing my bag on the dining room table, I cross to the living room window, peek through the blinds, and assess my view. Black Mountain is perched on top of a large hill, and can be seen from any part of this area. I make a mental note to survey the area surrounding the building in case I need a quick exit.
I’ve already studied the dossier on Ethan, so I do a little research on Black Mountain. The Company set me up with a computer and a secure line for sharing information with my boss. Pressing the power button, the beast comes to life. I type in the encrypted password, and get to work.
Entering Black Mountain into the search engine, I find their website in seconds. I click on the “about me” page. They supply guns and ammunition to the military, the police, and numerous other major organizations. I find the staff link and hit enter. The higher-ranking employees pop up first, with the staff pictured below. Recognizing Ethan’s photo before reading his name, I select his link. It doesn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. My boss is nothing if not thorough.
Gathering all the information I can from the computer, I shut down the desktop and pull out Ethan’s profile. Besides age, height, weight, and other quirks, it lists his habits.
He goes for a run at the same time every morning.
He orders Chinese food for dinner every Wednesday.
Friday afternoon after work, he frequents a bar in Deadwood called Paddy O’Neill’s Irish Pub and does a little gambling.
It even lists his favorite numbers to play roulette.
There’s my soft spot if I need it. He’s heavily in debt due to his obsessive gambling.
He’s not married, and isn’t dating as far as the Company knows. Shouldn’t take much to seduce him, if need be, but I’m hoping to have this wrapped up within a few days. If this leaks to the press, they’ll start looking at everyone involved, and this would be an embarrassment for the United States.
Rolling my neck, I realize I haven’t done my daily run today. It’s the perfect opportunity to check out the surrounding area of Black Mountain. I quickly change into something more appropriate for a jog.
Exiting my building, I turn right and head toward Black Mountain. As I run, I’m watching everyone, making sure I’m able to observe anyone who might be watching me. Call me paranoid, but I’d rather be too cautions than dead. The streets are busy, but nothing like DC, making it easy to people watch. It reminds me of Georgetown, with less people. The center of town has a square, with jumping water fountains and numerous benches—the perfect place for a dead drop.
Running through the center of the square, I turn down a side street, looking for places someone can hide—or be hidden. There aren’t too many alleys, which is a good thing. You never know who’s lurking at the back of a dark alley. There is, however, a parking garage. I’ll keep that in mind as a possible meeting place.
A few miles later, I find myself in front of Black Mountain. Leaning down to touch my toes and loosen my tightening limbs, I survey my surroundings. The large building is bordered by a twelve-foot iron fence with barbed wire across the top. Guards stand on either side of the entrance, with foot patrols roaming around the massive building. Farther down is a guard shack with an electronic gate. Breaching their security would be difficult, but not impossible. I start up at a jog again, not wanting to raise any suspicion. When it’s dark, I’ll take this same route to check out the night watch. Continuing my jog, I run completely around the compound. No other entrances exist along the fence, and more guards are walking the perimeter. A few minutes later, I find myself back in the square in the center of town a few blocks from my apartment. I sit on the bench, resting from my sprint, and survey my surroundings. So far, nothing seems suspicious, and my gut instinct agrees. I watch the children jumping to avoid the water fountains spurting from the cement to my right, and workers putting together tents to my left for the Great Downtown Pumpkin Festival taking place this weekend.
Perfect.
The busier the square is, the less likely I’ll be noticed.
I need to get the information by this weekend and dead drop it during the chaos.
Standing, I jog back to my apartment to take a nap. I’ll need it for my reconnaissance mission later tonight.