CHAPTER 28
GRAHAM

“Okay, so here’s what I’ve got,” Daniel said. “According to my sources—and I really dug into them after that asshole approached you—Paul is with the CIA.”

“Guess they’ll let anyone in nowadays,” I said.

“But the Agency is most certainly not working with the mob in any fashion.”

“And your source is completely sure of this?” I asked.

“Completely. Whatever he told you, it must’ve been rehearsed. I cashed in some serious favors I’m not proud of to get my hands on confidential documents, and some of the shit’s still redacted. But the Agency never stopped their investigation. They were using the shit you were digging up in your spare time to get them closer to a takedown.”

“They were?” I asked.

“Yeah. It’s all right there. Your name’s in the fucking file as one of the agents feeding them information,” he said.

“So how the fuck does Paul figure into all of this? He has to have some role if he knew what to tell me to get me to back off.”

“I had someone tap into some surveillance footage, and it’s rough. Paul’s plastered all over them. Shaking hands with the head of the Fresco crime family. He’s seen passing off black bags of what I can only assume is money. The CIA isn’t involved with the mob, but he sure the fuck is.”

“And we’re sure he’s not just an undercover in this?” I asked.

“No, he’s providing them protection. He’s a fucking double agent, Graham.”

Daniel slammed a thick folder of documents down in front of me. I opened the folder and scanned my eyes along the pages. Times to meet informants that didn’t make sense. The mysterious death of undercover agents that were still pending investigation. Evidence that would go missing the day before important trials.

“Holy shit, he’s protecting them,” I said.

“And those black bags? If you look at the body language closely, you’ll see he’s not passing them off. He’s receiving them. I’ve got my source trying to pull clearer videos of the transactions, but I guarantee you those are sacks full of money.”

“That fucker’s getting kickbacks,” I said.

“In exchange for using CIA resources to protect their asses from getting caught. He was bobbing while you weaved, and I’m pretty sure he’s the one who set you up and had your family killed.”

I gripped the pictures so tightly that I punctured a hole in the corner.

“We have to take this to someone,” I said.

“Already on it. Though once I strike up this phone conversation, they’re going to trace it. We need to talk quickly,” he said.

“Whatever it fucking takes.”

We opened up my laptop and set it on the kitchen counter. There was a secured video feed that was ringing on the screen. A video popped up, and there was Buckley, my old boss.

With a host of people already tracing the damn video.

“Anderson, where are you?” Buckley asked.

“On the other side of the country,” I said. “But you’ll figure that out soon enough.”

“You just interjected into a private video feed with the President. What the fuck are you doing?” he asked.

“In a moment, a friend of mine is going to knock on that door back there. Open it and take the folder of information,” Daniel said.

“You’re giving me orders?” Buckley asked.

“Yes, we are,” I said.

There was a knock on the other end of the video, and I saw someone come in. A woman handed a folder of information to Buckley, and then she turned and winked at Daniel. I looked over at him and watched my friend shake his head, a cheeky ass grin spreading across his cheeks.

“Can you keep it in your pants for a few more minutes?” I asked.

“I can try,” Daniel said.

“Bend, Oregon. Interesting choice,” Buckley said. “The authorities have been alerted that an AWOL CIA agent with ties to drug trafficking and arms smuggling is on the outskirts of their city. Within five minutes, you’ll be arrested and jetted back to DC.”

“What in the ever-loving fuck are you talking about?” I asked incredulously.

“We know you were working with the mob. We figured out you were helping them smuggle drugs into the country for kickbacks. We’ve got photos of you shaking hands with the fucking head of it all,” Buckley said.

“You might want to open that folder in front of you then,” I said.

I could hear the police sirens in the distance. Tires were squealing, and Daniel was beginning to shift on his feet. This wasn’t good. They were getting too close for my liking. I watched as Buckley opened the file and pulled out a massive pile of information.

“Did you send it all to him?” I asked.

“I had to. It was the only way to convince him,” Daniel said. “Sir, in your hands is information on an agent named Paul Martin. Recruited five years ago fresh out of the military for multiple secret-level CIA—”

“I know who the man is. I recruited him,” Buckley said.

“Good, then this won’t take long. Graham isn’t the one receiving kickbacks for anything. In your hands is proof that Martin is using CIA resources to protect the criminals you’ve been chasing for well over three years in exchange for kickbacks they are giving him,” Daniel said.

“The Fresco family are paying him for his CIA connections,” I said.

The sirens were getting closer. They were roaring down the road and skidding onto my lawn. I looked out the window and saw the lights flashing. Men were drawing guns, and officers were racing for my porch.

“Martin said you were the reason for these assholes getting away. He had pictures of you shaking hands with this asshole,” Buckley said.

“Another friend of mine is standing outside in the hallway, ready to prove to you that the photos he handed you are photoshopped. You’re looking at the real photos. The timestamp at the corner shows when the deals took place and when that picture was pulled. Do his photographs have those timestamps on them?” Daniel asked.

Officers came tearing through my front door with guns pointed at our backs.

“Buckley, you know we’re right,” Daniel said. “Make the connections. The suits Paul wears. They’re too expensive for his salary. The redacted files show you guys were using Anderson’s information to get to this organization and then suddenly he runs away? How does that make any sense?”

The police were pulling my hands behind my back as a gun was pressed between my shoulder blades.

“You got rights you’re gonna read me?” I asked.

“Officer, stop,” Buckley said.

I breathed a sigh of relief as the gun fell from my back.

“Why the hell would I be a part of something that got my family killed, Robert?”

I looked up and into the video feed as my former boss heaved a heavy sigh.

“Shit. Notify the Bend police department. Tell them Graham isn’t their man. Paul is,” Buckley said.

“You can let go of him now,” Daniel said.

The officer dropped my hands, and I rolled my shoulders back. I knew it would take some time for Robert to piece all this shit together, but for now, we had him on our side. He kept scanning the documents as police officers were radioed back to their cars. Something about new information coming in about a wanted fugitive.

“Holy shit,” Robert said. “That son of a bitch.”

“It’s bad,” Daniel said. “He’s been doing it for years.”

“And right under our fucking noses. Graham, I’m sorry. The two of you did a great job. If you guys were still here, you’d be promoted,” Buckley said.

“No thanks. I’m fine where I am,” I said.

“We’ll handle it from here,” Buckley said.

“I’m sure you will,” Daniel said.

“Anderson, you got a pension waiting for you. This will clear your name, and those benefits will be released to you. You planning on sticking around Bend for a spell?”

“Don’t see myself going anywhere else,” I said.

“Good. I’ll need to get in touch with you to settle all this … shit,” Buckley said.

“Knock ‘em dead,” I said with a grin.

Then Daniel reached over and cut the call as the police officers pulled away from my house.