EPILOGUE

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Special Agent in Charge Andrews sat in an oversized conference room of the J. Edgar Hoover building in Washington D.C., home of the FBI headquarters.  He looked at his watch. It was well past two o’clock.

He had been summoned to the offices three days earlier under a shroud of mystery. Andrews had been at 935 Pennsylvania Avenue on a few occasions but not in over five years. He went to his own boss at the FBI regional office in Bozeman but the man claimed to know nothing. He told Andrews not to be worried. He had done nothing wrong.

Still, the uncertainty was eating at him, and now they were making him wait. He didn’t even know who he was meeting. He arrived twenty minutes early but had been cooling his heels for over a half hour.  Ten more minutes passed before three people walked in.

Andrews stood, eyes wide and mouth agape. Standing before him were FBI Director Randall Rice, Deputy Director Daniel Bowman and Chief of Staff Angela Burk.  He had met them all once or twice in the early stages of his career, long before any of them held their current positions. He had never held more than a cursory conversation with any of them in the past.

“Andrews,” Rice greeted, “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I’m sure you know Bowman and Burk.”

“Yes, of course,” Andrews said after clearing his throat. He shook hands with all three of them.

“Please sit,” Rice said. “I don’t have long. We’ll get right to the point. Did anyone tell you why you were asked to be here today?”

“No sir,” Andrews said.

“Good. Angela Burk will explain.”

“You were involved with Lindsay Vanderbilt’s investigation into her abduction five years ago, correct?” Burk asked.

“Yes, that’s right,” he replied.

“And you continued to provide oversight into the manhunt for the mastermind of that kidnapping,” she continued, “Barnabas Quince.”

“Yes, initially,” Andrews said, “but I was removed from that assignment when Quince fled the lower forty-eight.”

“So, that assignment turned out to be a failure,” she said.

He paused, wondering if somehow it was discovered he missed something big and was now being canned for it.

“We never found him,” Andrews admitted. “The last I heard he was thought to be in Alaska, laying low.”

“Our intelligence indicated he was indeed, in Alaska, hiding deep underground,” Deputy Director Bowman said, “but he resurfaced four months ago.”

“I didn’t know that,” Andrews said.

“It seems he has been very quietly rebuilding his organization,” Rice continued. “Our intel suggests he is amassing a criminal organization of epic proportions, with heavy emphasis on weapons acquisition and resell.  He is amassing quite an arsenal, an arsenal we believe he intends to sell to ISIS.  We need to stop him . . . and soon, before it’s too late.”

“Based on your time on the case, do you have any idea where he might try to form a base of operations?” Bowman wanted to know.

“No,” Andrews said.

“Do you know why we’re asking?” Rice asked.

“You want me to take point on finding him,” Andrews noted, his heartrate rising.

“Yes, but we want to offer you special help,” Burk said. “I’ll warn you—it’s out of the box but we think it comes with tremendous benefits.”

“I’d like to put together my own team, if you wouldn’t mind,” Andrews said.

“You’ll get that chance,” Rice affirmed, “but let’s face it, Barnabas Quince has been eluding all of us for years.”

“That’s true,” Andrews said, “but . . .”

“You couldn’t get the job done on your own, either,” Bowman said, somewhat accusingly.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, Andrews,” Director Rice interjected. “We think you’re the man for the job and we are willing to commit the resources to get the job done. We have been trying to catch this guy for over twenty years now and we’ve never gotten close. We can’t fail this time. We simply can’t. We are even willing to do what it takes, even if that means getting . . . creative.”

Andrews sighed, “You said your idea was out of the box. Do you have someone in mind?”

“We do,” Burk said. “We now have access to a man with a very special skill set—and he has special knowledge of Barnabas’ organization.”

“Are you going to tell me who it is?” Andrews asked.

Burk looked at Rice and Bowman. Rice nodded.

Burk looked back at Andrews, leaning forward. She pushed a thick manila file across the desk to Andrews, “Tell me about a man they call . . . Rainhorse.”

 

 

(Coming June 26, 2018 – the next Rainhorse adventure/romance continues)