Page 66 of Leading Conviction
In his research, he’d found that some of the men the General rubbed elbows with went to this shindig in Ashland County. It was apparently the American Southeast’s worst-kept secret scholarship fundraiser. People were invited from all over the South to the little Podunk county.
But after some digging, Eagle had realized Ashland County was a uniquely ideal hub for trafficking on the East Coast, and the party was the perfect front.
The area was an easy drive to Atlanta, one of the cities with the worst human trafficking statistics in the United States. It also had its very own inland port and an airport that, even though it was small, had a surprising amount of cross-country flights. Planes regularly flew out to major cities like Miami, Washington, DC, and New York City, all common hubs for human trafficking.
Eagle wanted to see what happened at this party when the men—including a Russian American attorney and the General’s half brother—got together. Instead of funding scholarships, were they backing traffickers? Were they buying women for themselves?
If what Eagle suspected was true—that the General led a human trafficking ring of his own—then MF7 had been facilitating the operation by clearing out competition throughout the world. This was all a stretch, of course. Major, next-level paranoid shit, he could undoubtedly be declared certifiably insane if he told anyone.
But what if he was right? What if Ashland County was just the beginning?
In that case, there was nothing stopping the General from using strategically located parties like the one in Ashland County and replicating them on the West Coast, too. The General’s trafficking ring could consolidate power in the USA and expand after MF7 caught their biggest fish so far, a Russian organization that was currently using a Yemeni village to funnel victims.
The women were often promised better lives and were tricked into hell instead. Eagle knew firsthand how hard it was to foresee the worst in an opportunity that claimed to make all your dreams come true. Hell, his own team had done the same thing when the General lured them into “ending” the world’s human trafficking crisis.
We were so fucking naive.
Even if Eagle’s crackpot theories were wrong, the sheer number of trafficking operations they’d shut down was staggering, and yet, they hadn’t even made a dent. MF7 needed a break.
After Eagle pulled into the General’s new security facility and parked, he nodded to the man standing guard outside before entering through the main glass doors. It’d been a shock to find out the General had his own security firm. Eagle had been so out of the loop to anything not human trafficking–related he hadn’t even realized the soon-to-retire General had already begun a side job in the private sector.
Everything about this man is shady, goddamn.
Eagle took the elevator to the General’s office on the top floor. When he got to the large corner office at the end of the hallway, Eagle raised his hand to knock on the door.
“Come in, Captain Greene,” General Smithers’s voice called through the wooden door.
Eagle opened the door and snapped into a crisp salute out of habit rather than respect.
“At ease, soldier. Take a seat,” General Smithers grumbled, not bothering to look up as he set aside two large photographs he’d been studying.
Eagle relaxed a fraction, but his heart still pounded out of his chest at all the things he needed to cover during the meeting. He tried to school his face as he sat down and attempted to act casual.
“How did you know it was me, sir?”
“I run a security firm, boy,” General Smithers scowled. “I have my ways.”
The man with dyed jet-black hair and rheumy blue eyes leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on his belly. It was much larger than the last time Eagle had seen him, almost four years ago. They hadn’t needed face-to-face communication to receive their mission dossiers. Every task and job was sent through encrypted code and letters. Eagle had been shocked when he was ordered to physically meet the man, and even more confused when he was commanded not to tell his teammates.
It’d been tempting to disobey, especially with the wild and crazy theories going on in his head, but just in case something was up with the General, he didn’t want to put his team in jeopardy by telling them.
“You asked to see me, sir?”
“I did. Let’s get right to it. I understand you know more than you should.”
That one sentence had Eagle’s heart plummeting to his stomach. He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. On the inside, he chastised himself for exhibiting the tells he’d thought he’d painstakingly drilled out of his mannerisms.
“What do you mean, sir?”
General Smithers scoffed and shook his head. “I know you figured out the Rahab Foundation. I know you figured out the operation. I know all about it.”
Act dumb, or confess… that is the question.
Unsure how to play this, he watched the General for a moment just as intently as the man stared back at him. Finally Eagle sighed and bent forward, his elbows on his knees.
“Look, I don’t know what you think I know.Idon’t even know what I think I know. You called this meeting, but all I wanted to discuss was the possibility of ending the team’s contract.” The General tilted his head with interest, so Eagle pressed on, “We’re done, sir. We’ve been at this for years, putting our lives on hold for a cause we believed in once, but we now know there’s no expiration date in sight. It’s time we pass the baton, so to speak.”
The General pursed his lips and nodded as Eagle spoke. When he was finished, Eagle leaned back, satisfied the man was actually taking his proposition under consideration, until the General opened his mouth again.
