Wednesday afternoon: Seattle Washington

Angela Burk drove over eighty miles an hour on Interstate-5 to Interstate-90 and headed east, praying she didn’t get pulled over by the police.  She passed a trooper parked behind a road sign, but in the rearview mirror she saw his cruiser motionless and fading into the distance.

She looked at her watch. It was just after two o’clock—perfect timing. She exited the freeway and drove to an open field where a helicopter sat waiting for her—also perfect.  She pulled to within fifty feet of the chopper and stopped the car.  She hopped out and walked toward the pilot who was standing patiently by the passenger entrance.

Her first sign that something was wrong came when she got close enough to see the pilot’s face.  She didn’t recognize him.  The pilot was an undercover FBI agent—she was certain. She stopped walking and looked around her. She saw nothing, but she panicked anyway. She backed away, slowly at first, then bolted back toward her car.

She made it back halfway to the vehicle when six black Chevy SUV’s converged from behind the trees at all angles, surrounding her. At that point, she knew it was over.  She raised her hands and dropped to her knees.

Agent Andrews was the first to emerge, with a dozen more agents quickly following, all with guns pointed toward Burk’s chest and back. 

“Going somewhere, Burk?” Andrews asked her, as he drew near.  “Let me guess; due east at about one hundred sixty miles an hour away from the blast. You were going to be driving though the Cascade Mountains about the time the bomb went off. Am I right?”

She said nothing, just glared at him.

“Nothing to say, Angela?” he asked.

“You beat me here,” she said. “How did you know I would be here?”

“Remember what Chief-of-Staff Kelsey said about getting whatever warrants we needed right away, without question?”

“You tapped my phone? I'll have your badge for that.”

“Not likely.”

“Screw you,” she hissed.

“There’s only one person here who is truly screwed, Angela, and that’s you,” he replied.  He nodded at two of the agents, who pushed her forward, face-first on the ground, disarmed her and cuffed her hands behind her back. They then pulled her to her feet. She glared at Andrews again.

“What are you charging me with?” she inquired.

“Funny you should ask. I was just getting to that. Special Agent Angela Burk. You are under arrest for: treason, terrorism, conspiracy, fraud, data theft, accessory to murder... and that’s just to start. Homeland Security has yet to weigh in.”

“You’ll never make it stick,” she said.

“Oh, but you are so wrong,” he said. “Your former lover, Agent Lee Michaels, provided us a clear path to you. He left much telltale evidence in his apartment in D.C. You were probably unaware he taped all of your conversations.”

 “You’re lying,” she spat back. For the first time, Andrews saw the rage disappear from her eyes, replaced by fright.

“Afraid not. He also videotaped you two having sex in his apartment,” Andrews said. “I especially liked the cheerleader outfit.  I always liked those naughty Dallas cheerleaders.”

The rage in her expression returned.

“Jealous?” she asked.

“After seeing you naked and in action, I can honestly say, not in the least.”

“Fuck you,” she said.

“Zero probability of that happening,” Andrews said.

“Aren’t you going to be late to the airplane hangar,” she rasped. “That bomb will go off soon.”

“We’re not going to an airplane hangar,” Andrews said.

“What?”

“I fed you that story because I knew you’d feed it straight to Barnabas, dumbass,” Andrews barked. “The bomb squad and the world’s foremost nuclear specialists have been at the Chinese barge for an hour. They neutralized the bomb fifteen minutes ago.”

“Your lying.”

Andrews smiled and shook his head.

“Listen, you still don’t have Barnabas,” she said in desperation. “I can tell you where he is.”

“I assume you mean the little island in the San Juan’s?” Andrews said, chuckling. “Our friend, Rainhorse, is with him now and agents are on their way.  Sorry Burk, you have nowhere to go, and time is up.  Boys, get this bitch out of my sight.”