Page 17 of Falcon

Rattler snorted. “That the company line?”

“Exactly.” Joilyn pointed at her brother, like he’d just proved her point. “It was an excuse. A reason for them to be operating in the area when your team got killed.”

“So, if you weren’t there to stop a terrorist plot, why were you there? And why did you stay there after everything went to shit?”

“It was a hit. Pure and simple.”

“A hit. That the CIA took on personally. Even covering and creating excuses for them being there? That makes no sense at all.”

“When have you ever known a government agency to make sense?”

I raised an eyebrow at Rattler. “She’s got you there.”

“Not helping, Falcon.”

“Not trying to. And I’m not buying it.”

“It took me a while to figure out what was going on and who I could trust. And I’m talking about people inside the agency. Staying with this bunch was a calculated risk, but I knew I could manage these guys. They’re mean, resourceful, and great at hunting squirrels and deer. But well versed in covert ops, they are not. Once I was in with them, I played the part easily enough. Since I didn’t have to contact my handler right away because I wasn’t sure I could trust him, I didn’t risk getting caught. By the time I’d worked it all out, things had died down here and gotten back to normal. Normal being a lesson in paranoid delusions within moderately sized groups. They didn’t see women as a threat. Just someone to help them when they needed it. I blended in with the other women, cooking and cleaning and keeping the kids out of the men’s way.”

“How long had you been in place before the raid?” Rattler was starting to relax a little. Like me, I was sure he was feeling the adrenaline letdown.

“About six weeks. Not long. Long enough to establish patterns. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone but the guys at the house the night of the raid. All of the women and children were supposed to be gone on a picnic off grounds. There weren’t that many of us and most of the time, only me and one other woman were there. But that day, it rained. I got word out to my handler, but he said it was too late. The operation had already started.

“I honestly didn’t care if the women were there or not. They knew what they were doing, that those guys were homegrown terrorists, and they chose to stay with them. But there was no way I could let those three kids be put in danger. So I sounded the alarm.” She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. One tear slid down her cheek, but she ignored it. “I thought if they were ready, the team coming in would see they’d lost the element of surprise and at least pull back and reassess.”

“We questioned that, Rattler,” I whispered. “Do you remember?”

“Yeah. We both thought it odd, but I wasn’t worried. I knew we could take them.”

“We asked for instructions but were told to proceed anyway,” Rattler told her. “It wasn’t until we saw the kids running toward the property line we realized there were innocents on the ground.”

“There were only three kids, but you had no way of knowing there weren’t any inside. I knew it would make things difficult, but what I didn’t know was how many weapons they had hidden away in the storm cellar, or what kind. I had no fucking idea! I damn sure didn’t know about the armor-piercing rounds or the mortars.” She shivered. “If I’d been more experienced, or had more time to have studied the place, I’m sure I’d have found their cache. Instead, the timetable got moved up, and there we were.”

“You said they were trying to kill someone. Who did they target?”

“Right. One of the guys funding that particular group is the son of an exceedingly wealthy and powerful businessman in the area. He’s local, but make no mistake, the man is a silent world powerhouse. As you probably figured out, the place was pretty much completely off the grid. I had to get creative in my digging. Thankfully, I had a few friends in place who I trusted to keep me being alive a secret. We did some work and it looked like the father wanted the son killed. While he is definitely rich enough to kill someone and get away with it, his son being killed might raise a few eyebrows. But, if they could spin it so that it looked like his son had been kidnapped and killed by a bunch of trigger-happy militants bent on blowing up buildings and killing members of law enforcement, he could go on sitting quietly in the shadows. This guy had to have gone to someone high up in the CIA and presented it to set up a smoke screen for future operations inside the US. Kind of like a dress rehearsal in information control in domestic operations.”

“Christ, this sounds like something out of a fuckin’ movie.” Rattler scrubbed a hand over his face in agitation.

“You worked for the fucking CIA too,” Joilyn snapped. “Tell me this doesn’t sound like something they’d do.” When Rattler gave her a look, she continued. “I don’t have all the answers, guys. But I do know that the son was trouble. Like the psychotic kind of trouble. And the father’d had all he was gonna take. When the son started plotting to blow up buildings and shoot up parks and courthouses, his father snapped. Rather than have his family name associated with something like the Oklahoma City Bombing, he chose to take the chance it would slip to the press his son was killed in that raid. If the press got wind of his son being killed, the official press release was supposed to play it as his son had been part of a CIA raid. So, of course the pressdidfind out. That was the whole point of the mission underneath the mission only a very few people knew about. The report leaked did not say the man was acting with the CIA or against it. Only that he was among the several agents killed during the raid.”

My eyes widened. “Felix Newton. He was the son.”

“Isn’t his dad a US senator or something?” asked Rattler.

Joilyn winced. “Yeah. I’m so going to jail for treason or some shit. ‘Cause, you know, that’s all classified.”

“You’re not going to jail,” Rattler said firmly. “You’ll come back with us. It’s why the club exists.”

“You mean Grim Road? Yeah, Cheetah said I’d probably be offered the chance to go back with you. She said if I wanted to stay hidden, that’s where I needed to go.”

“She’s right.” I thought I should probably reach out to Joilyn, to reassure her she’d have a home with us if she wanted it, but found myself reluctant to take her hand. Instead, I smiled. “The agency knows you’re alive because they called ExFil to get you out. Right?”

“That’s something that’s up for debate.” Joilyn eyed me carefully, as if she sensed my reluctance to have physical connection with her. “If my handler didn’t tell his superiors, he might have called ExFil himself outside agency channels. It’s even possible ExFil thinks they’re doing this for the agency when it’s really unsanctioned.”

“Who’s your handler?”

“I only know him by his road name.”

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