Page 12 of Enemy of My Enemy
“From who?”
“People who support you and the president. Not everyone is full of hate.”
Sometimes it was hard to remember that when the loudest voices were the ones most hurtful. “Eight other bins?”
“Eight other binstoday. We’ll get more tomorrow. And the day after.”
“Can you bring them all in here?”
Barbara nodded. “Would you like me to draft a reply for your review? A letter of thanks from you and the president on your official letterhead? We only receive mail that includes a return address, so we can send replies to every single one.”
The next card was an anniversary card, but the wording was appropriate. “To the both of you and your loving relationship.Signed, Jim & Evan Gameros.”
Ethan had to swallow, but still, his voice was hoarse. “Yeah, Barbara. That’s a good idea.”
She slipped out with a smile, and Ethan reached for the next card.
* * *
Ethan’s phonebuzzed an hour later.
You free? Irwin wants you to head over to the Oval.
He frowned.[Everything okay?]
Remember his offer?
Lawrence Irwin, former director of the CIA, before Jack fired him for—ostensibly—getting Ethan killed, and then rehired as chief of staff after Jeff Gottschalk’s complete betrayal. He’d texted Ethan last week after his resignation.I’m not affiliated with the CIA anymore—officially—but I know the agency could use a man like you. Would you be interested in one of the more special programs? Continue to serve your country?
Only in conjunction with Jack, he’d said. And only if it didn’t jeopardize Jack. Or them together.
[It’s my first day!]
Guess we’ll find out together what he’s up to.
* * *
Jack wasbehind his desk checking his laptop as Ethan plopped down on one of the couches and waited for Irwin. A few minutes later, Irwin ducked into the Oval Office, clutching his padfolio, phone, and a stack of red folders marked “Top Secret.” He was alone, and he sat across from Ethan with a smile and a nod to Jack. “Mr. President.”
“Special meeting today, Lawrence?” Jack settled beside Ethan and offered his chief of staff a cup of coffee.
Irwin traded one of the folders for the coffee. “I have information on Madigan, Mr. President. Some disturbing new actions to report.” His gaze shifted to Ethan. “And a plan.”
In the folder, photos stamped with“Fort Leavenworth—Maximum Security Z Unit”were stapled to heavy sheets of cardstock. Below the photos were layouts and diagrams of the prison detailing ingress and egress points from an infiltration team. More photos followed of an open cell and a prison guard’s body covered with a tarp. Blood on the walls, on the floors. Bloody footprints. Behind the photo boards, an analysis of the prison break.
“What is this?” Jack’s eyes lingered on the last photo board and a bloody M drawn inside a circle. “What are we looking at?”
“Friday night, Fort Leavenworth’s maximum security Z Unit experienced a break-in. We don’t have full details on how this occurred, but at least three of the guards are unaccounted for and one is dead. We suspect the missing guards may have aided an infiltration team on the ground.”
“Who escaped?” Ethan flipped through the photo boards, squinting at the isolated drop cells and the heightened security evident from the photos. “This doesn’t look like a normal prison block.”
“Z Unit is where we dump the worst of the worst. Our darkest criminals from the military. People we don’t want to ever see or hear from again. We just want them to disappear.”
“No capital punishment? No death penalty?”
“Too public. Z Unit really is a black hole.” Irwin passed over another folder, flipping it open to a full-page color photo of an Army captain in his dress uniform, glaring hard at the camera. Across from the photo, a decorated service record listed oblique references to major actions in the Special Forces. At the bottom of the service record, an entry listed the captain’s demotion to private and sentence to Fort Leavenworth following closed proceedings. The charges weren’t shown. “Former Captain Ryan Cook is the only prisoner who is missing. The Butcher of Iraq. He led a Special Forces team there for five tours. And he served alongside Jeff Gottschalk and then-Major Madigan.”
Something slithered down Ethan’s spine, a memory just out of reach. Something mixed in with the sand and sun and bombs blasting all around. He squinted at Cook’s face. There was something about him, something familiar.
