September 24, 1998
WITH GAS STOPS, FOOD, POTTY breaks, and construction, it takes me twenty-seven hours to get to Langley. As tired as I am, I’m glad to be back somewhere safe.
Well . . . almost safe.
I will be, as soon as I take care of my traitor.
Langley’s buzzing with morning activity by the time I pull up to the guard booth, just past seven in the morning. I don’t have any credentials aside from my alternative identification, but it doesn’t matter. They’re logged into the system. The picture on my ID matches my face, so there shouldn’t be any problem. The license plate of the car I’m driving should also be an indicator since it’s a Company vehicle.
The morning guard steps out of his cage, his eyes narrowed and forehead scrunched, no doubt trying to figure out who I am. God, I must look like a train wreck.
“Morning,” I sigh, handing him my identification. “I need to see deputy director Hayden immediately. It’s a matter of national security.” Looking me over, I can see why he has his doubts. I’m dressed in a Van Halen T-Shirt and a pair of black sweatpants—not exactly CIA attire. “Check my credentials, and you’ll understand why,” I challenge him.
Nodding, he shuffles back into his booth, and I wait while he types in my identity. The guard comes back, handing me my identification. “I’ll call to let him know you’re coming,” he announces before turning back to his booth.
“No,” I say, stopping him in his tracks. “No one can know I’m here . . . yet.” Twisting his head, his eyes catch mine. I send him a silent plea.
Trust me.
Believe me.
His lips twitch, then he nods his head. Walking to the gate, he unlatches the chain and it swings open. As I drive past him, I mouth, “Thank you.”
Once I’m parked, I jog to the entrance doors. I check in with the security guard in the lobby, which looks strangely like the guard who watches my building. “Hey, Max,” I ask, surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“Brian, the guard who’s normally here, had a baby. I’m here until he returns from paternity leave.”
Lifting my head in a silent prayer, my face breaks into a smile. “Max, I need a huge favor, and I wouldn’t ask unless it was really important.”
“Sure, Deloris. What do you need?”
“I need to use the phone.”
After my quick phone call, I thank Max and proceed to the elevator bank. When the doors open, I enter and press the number for Daniel’s floor.
I need to see him first.
I’m whisked up to the fourth floor and walk straight for his office, ignoring his secretary as she tries to stop me. Opening the door, I’m there in time to watch him finish up a phone conversation.
“Deloris,” Daniel utters, surprised, as he places the receiver on the cradle. “We thought something had happened to you. Your message said you’d be here yesterday morning,” he reveals as I close the door behind me.
“Yes, that was the plan. Plans change,” I elude as I move toward his desk.
“Are you all right?” he asks, standing.
“I’m fine.” I pull a stack of papers from the small of my back. Unfolding them, I place them in front of Daniel. He looks at the papers, his eyes widening just enough for me to notice, then back at me. “What’s this?” he asks.
“Proof.”
“You were able to get the information we needed?”
“And then some,” I confess. “Go ahead. Read it,” I blurt, pushing the pile closer to him.
Picking up the papers, he flips through the first few. I know he’s gotten to the one I wanted him to see when his eyes flick up to mine. All the blood drains from his face. “Deloris—” he starts, but I cut him off.
“I don’t want to hear it,” I snap.
“You don’t understand,” he tries to assure me, but I see his shoulder twitch.
Pulling the Colt pocket hammerless .25 caliber ACP pistol he gave to me just over a week ago from my waistband, I point it at his head. “Move your hands away from the gun in your drawer and place them flat on the top of the desk.” Daniels eyes go from mine, to the gun pointed at his forehead, back to mine again. Realizing I’m not backing down, he closes his eyes and sighs. Doing as I ask, he places his arms on the table, palms down.
Realization dawns, and his demeanor goes from panicked to not giving a fuck.
“You should be dead,” he snarls.
“Yet, here I stand, pointing a gun at your head,” I counter. “Why did you even bother giving me this if you wanted me dead?” I ask, giving my pistol a wiggle.
Shifting, he smirks. “I couldn’t send an agent into the field without a way to protect herself, even if I wanted her to never return.” His lips curl upward into an evil smile. “You’re smarter than I gave you credit for,” he admits, his fingers twitching.
“You can’t reach it. Not without me blowing a hole through your skull,” I assure him. Sitting in the chair across from Daniel, I keep the muzzle aimed right between his eyes. “Why did you do it?” I ask, trying to understand why he’d betray his country. “Why would you risk it all?”
“Money,” he answers without a thought. “A boat load of money.” Leaning forward, he says, “If someone offered you millions of dollars to look the other way, tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” I answer as quickly. “I, Deloris, solemnly swore I’d support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic. That I would bear true faith and allegiance to the same. I took this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion.” Staring into his eyes, I smile before I add, “My job as an agent is to protect the United States from predators like you. I took an oath—an oath I take very seriously.”
“You’ll never leave this office alive,” he challenges.
“Are you sure about that?”
With a grin, I whistle, and the door opens.
I don’t have to turn around to know who’s behind me.
From the look of horror on Daniel’s face, I’ll be leaving this office on my own two feet. Two men walk past me on either side and grab hold of Daniel’s arms. Placing them behind him, one of the men places cuffs on Daniel’s wrists. I put my gun down on the desk and stand.
“Agent Witt,” a voice from behind me calls. Turning, I watch deputy director Hayden move from the doorway as Daniel is yanked out of his chair.
“Sir,” I answer.
“I’m grateful you were able to unearth the conspirator unscathed.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“The information you were able to provide gave us the proof we needed to send in the cavalry. Everyone involved will be detained within the hour, and all the computers in the building seized. This will put an end to their sending empty boxes to our troops. You did a great service for your country, Agent Witt.”
“Thank you, sir,” I say, smiling. “Sir, one question,” I blurt after a thought enters my head.
“Yes, Agent Witt?”
“What about Ethan? Daniel used him to distract me from the real conspirator.” I almost feel bad for the guy—he might not have a job to go back to once the feds are done with their subpoenas.
“If he’s not involved, nothing,” the director says with a shrug.
As they escort Daniel away, I ask deputy director Hayden, “What’s going to happen to him?”
“He’ll be held and questioned, then tried for treason.”
“I never would have thought he’d do something so horrible,” I mutter almost to myself.
“Once you’ve been here long enough, nothing surprises you,” he says with a sad shake of his head. “Go home, Deloris. Get some well-deserved sleep.” With that, he follows the agents taking Daniel to be interrogated.
He’s in for a rough few days, but he did this to himself.
I have no pity for a man who’d betrayed his country.
After they’ve made their exit, I walk out of Daniel’s office toward the bank of elevators. The seriousness of the past week begins to take its toll, and I’m getting tired.
Once I’m downstairs and out of the building, I shuffle to my current vehicle. As I pull out of the parking lot, my eyes flicker down to the clock. It’s just past eight in the morning. I chuckle out loud, my mind thinking back to Ethan. I can’t imagine the thoughts that must be running through his mind. Between waking from his forced slumber yesterday without me being there, to the chaos that must be unfolding today at Black Mountain. . . maybe I should send him a bottle of Bourbon. A grin creeps across my lips and I snort as I think back to that evening. Booze isn’t the best idea—it was what I slipped the tranquilizer in. I’ll send him some flowers instead.
Making a turn onto the expressway, I settle in for my quick drive home, only thinking about my nice, cozy bed.
Today, I’ll sleep like the dead.
Tomorrow is another day.
The End