Chapter 27 Harper
Chapter twenty-seven
Harper
Agents Smith and Jones don’t speak a single word as we walk toward the parking lot nearly a quarter of a mile away.
Frankly, I’m okay with that after hearing them threaten Roger.
Since I’m going with them of my own free will, they spare me the embarrassment of being escorted in handcuffs.
It’s not as if I’m under arrest, but I wouldn’t have put it past them to make an example of me simply because of who my father is.
“Are we going back to DC?” I ask, sliding into the back seat of their black town car. Smith slams the door without answering. This is going to be fun.
Jones starts the car and tears out of the parking lot, forcing me into the back of the seat. “Once again, I ask, are we going back to DC? If so, I’d like to get there in one piece. Do you mind slowing down and not driving like a 16-year-old boy who just got their driver’s license?”
I laugh inwardly, remembering the day I got my license and tried to take my mom’s Prius for a joy ride. It was in ECO mode, which made getting to a top speed nearly impossible before having to slow back down.
I must have let a giggle slip because Jones locks eyes with me in the rearview mirror and narrows his gaze.
“You think this is funny? Your father is building a nuclear bomb and plans to unleash it who knows where. He’s recruited more than a dozen agents to his cause and is creating a rift in the department. ”
“No, Agent Jones, I don’t think this is funny.
You have my father tried and ready for execution without knowing all the facts.
Have you stopped to think that maybe the Deputy Director of the FBI uncovered a plot and is trying to stop it?
Agents like Zurkowski, Ackerman, Henrickson, and Walsh are all decorated war heroes who love their country.
Yet, you believe, for some mysterious reason, that they all just decided to betray their oaths and turn traitor.
Think again. Better yet, stop thinking and start paying attention to the facts! ”
The more I talk, the more my heart feels at peace. Now I understand why the Shining Knight team verbalizes every thought that comes to mind, whether it’s correct or not. When it’s right, they feel it to their core.
Smith turns around and sneers at me, his lip curling up in a snarl. “If your father uncovered a plot that could tear this nation apart, why would he go into hiding? Why not get the entirety of the Bureau working on it? Because he’s in on it! That’s why!”
I’ve asked myself the same question over and over again in my mind, which is what led to doubts about not only my father’s innocence, but my mother’s as well.
“He was overseeing the arrests, evidence collection, and trials of all the major players in the CIAs scheme that was uncovered six months ago. He may very well have tried to keep his investigation secret to prevent retribution. Not everyone was caught, including several key leaders inside The Demon Kings. The Demon Kings attacked my parents, federal agents who are working with my father, my husband, Agent Simms and Monroe, and the rest of their team.”
“Are you referring to the operation last night? If you are, you need to get your facts straight, Miss America. Simms and Monroe were working alone, which is why they barely escaped with their lives. It was Finnegan’s men who took out The Demon Kings. Half of them, anyway.”
I sit silent as I comprehend what Smith just told me. “Finnegan’s men took out The Demon Kings.”
“Oh look, the cat got your tongue!” Smith says with a smug grin.
“My mistake, but it doesn’t change the fact that The Demon Kings and my father are not working together. It only validates my point,” I argue.
Smith doesn’t give an inch. “Your father was trying to tie up loose ends.”
“Or someone else was!” I fire back.
“Enough!” Jones shouts. “We’re here!”
We couldn’t have been driving for more than ten minutes, which means we still have to be near Key West. I watch as Jones shows his badge to the man in a Navy uniform guarding a gate and quickly determine we are at the Naval Air Station just north of the resort.
The guard motions us through, and a few minutes later, we pull up to a nondescript building that could have once been a dormitory. Agent Jones and Smith get out of the car and wait for me. I sigh. So much for being gentlemen.
Once I’m out of the car, Smith grips my arm with more force than necessary.
Without thinking, I stop in my tracks and pivot toward him, twisting my arm out of his grasp.
His eyes widen for a brief moment before fury takes hold.
He pulls his right shoulder back to throw a punch, but I step toward him to close the distance, holding up my left arm to block the blow.
I swing my right elbow and clip him in the jaw.
He stumbles back and shakes off the hit.
“Touch me again,” I dare him, using a calm, but menacing, voice.
The agent doesn’t seem to understand that he’s outmatched and moves in for another strike, only to be halted by a booming voice. “Stand down, Smith. That is not how we treat one of our own. I’ll take it from here,” Agent Simms says with a commanding authority.
“But we’re supposed to escort her to…”
“And I’ll be the one that takes her,” Simms replies coolly. He faces me and gives me a look of pity. “I apologize for his behavior. Regardless of what people may think about your father,” he says and then lowers his voice, “and mother, no one should be blamed for the sins of their parents.”
My eyes widen momentarily when he mentions my mother, but I quickly school my features.
“I am but an acorn that didn’t fall far from the tree,” I reply.
“It doesn’t seem to matter that my parents have dedicated their whole lives to the Bureau, this country, and the American people.
They will be branded as traitors unless I can help prove their innocence.
If the only way I can do that is to answer your questions, then so be it.
” I gesture to the open space in front of me. “Lead the way!”
Simms and I stare at one another in the interrogation room, and the silence begins to become deafening.
I’ll hold out as long as he will, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a little apprehensive about what’s to come.
The entire building appeared dilapidated from the outside, but the inside was repurposed into an FBI field office—a secret field office.
And from the looks of it, it’s been here for quite some time.
After an hour, Monroe joins us. He shuts off the camera in the corner and pulls the shade down over the one-way mirror. “We’re clear, but there isn’t much time,” he says, placing a bottle of water in front of me.
“Much time for what? I’ve got all the time in the world since I’m at your mercy.”
“To explain,” Simms says.
“Explain what?” I ask. “Are you going to tell me why I clearly heard you communicating with another team last night, but Agent Smith informed me that the two of you were working alone?”
Monroe sighs. “Smith and Jones are like those people who see a meme or a fake article and assume it’s the truth. They’re quick to spread the news with the notion they’re doing the right thing. Instead, they’re spreading misinformation or facts taken out of context.”
Simms adds, “They are repeating what they’ve heard, not what they know, Harper. We had a team out there last night, and they were nearly killed because of the seed that Thomas Hogan planted. We suspected it was a trap, and we were there to confirm it.”
I lean back in my chair, crossing my legs and holding my elbows.
As far as body language is concerned, I can’t scream “closed off” any louder.
“Are you blaming Shining Knight and me for the botched operation? It was never our intention to send you in the first place. If we had known, we wouldn’t have asked you to take our place. ”
Simms raises his hands in surrender. “That is not our intention at all. I’m informing you that we did have a team out there, but not every agent is kept in the loop. Operational security exists for a reason.”
Fair enough. “How did Thomas Hogan die? Can you tell me that?”
“Suicide,” Simms replies. I open my mouth to ask another question, but he holds up a finger.
“Before you ask if I’m sure, the answer is ‘Yes.’ There was a camera in his office and footage of him taking his own life, as well as a handwritten note on his desk with six simple words written down. It said, ‘I had no idea. I’m sorry.’”
“Who was he apologizing to?” I ask, confused.
“Your guess is as good as ours. Was he apologizing because the boat was lost and he failed in the task he was given, having no idea that there would be a loss of lives? Is he apologizing to the world because he found out he was a pawn in a nuclear terrorist plot? Or is he apologizing to the boat crew because he thought he was telling them the truth and thought there was going to be a drop? I doubt we’ll ever know the answer. ”
Monroe slides a folder across the table. “Here’s everything we do know so far.”
I eye the folder like it’s a snake about to bite me, but then curiosity gets the better of me. I reach for the file and open it, scooting my chair in to get a closer look. I flip through pages of documents that I recognize from when Jerry hacked my father’s computer. “How did you get these?”
“It’s not as difficult as you might think. Although I’ll admit, Jerry was very good at covering his tracks when he hacked into Finnegan’s computer.”
My mouth hangs open in shock. Not knowing how to respond, I continue to flip through pictures taken at long range.
The first is of a man handing Sergio Alvarez a briefcase.
The second is the same man with a group of roughly twenty people in soiled clothing.
The last picture guts me. The Demon Kings are huddled together, and in the background is a man I’ve respected my whole life, wearing a smug expression.
I tear up and choke out, “When did you take these?”
“As far back as a month ago. The picture with Sergio Alvarez was taken two hours ago,” Simms says, disappointment lacing his tone.
Monroe reaches across the table and gives my hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Harper. None of us wanted it to be true.”
Feeling anger, hurt, and betrayal, I slam the file closed. “Why are you telling me all of this? Why now?”
Simms grimaces. “Because we need an admission, and you’re the only one who can get it.”