CHAPTER TWENTY
David got an early start the following morning. He had spent most of the previous evening digging into Green Glen Health Collective and learned quite a few interesting things.
That collective lasted for only a few years before it was dissipated and quickly reformed, allegedly as a pharmaceutical company.
David didn’t find it surprising at all that the company’s only recorded transactions involved the purchase and manufacture of hallucinogens like LSD and DMT.
He found it even less surprising that the reformation of the collective coincided with the deaths of nine of its previous members or with the cancellation of the CIA’s MKUltra program.
David smiled wryly as he parked his car in the staff lot at the FBI Academy. He imagined Green Glen experimented liberally with other strains of hemp and other species of mushrooms.
“What’s so funny?” Hammerton asked.
“Nothing. Just remembering something from when I was a kid.”
“Back in the dark ages, huh?” Rogers asked.
“Way back then.”
“Well, I want to hear about it, but we’re gonna grab some coffee first. Want us to bring you some?”
“Please do,” David said. “Something dark and black.”
“You got it.”
David’s smile faded as he thought of the latest incarnation of Green Glen. Green Meadows had thrived for twenty-five years, and unlike the other iterations of the company appeared to actually have a successful legal business.
The latest Green Glen, not so much. After Green Meadows shut down abruptly in 2010, it remained gone until five years ago.
This Green Glen was far more similar to the Green Glen that had popped up immediately after MKUltra.
Scientists’ research was stolen, the scientists were murdered, and a number of drugs were mysteriously bought, moved, and lost. This time, the focus was on dogs, not people, but it was clear that the CIA had returned to a more violent way of doing business.
Why? He still didn’t understand that. What benefit did they gain from turning dogs into slaves? How could it possibly be worth the amount of money they were spending and the effort they were dedicating to this?
Maybe there was no answer to those questions. Certainly, any objective look at MKUltra would question the utility of drugging people to unlock some minor latent clairvoyance. Maybe the CIA was doing this just because they could.
The trio separated when they reached David’s office. He waved goodbye to his burly bodyguards and entered the office. He knew instantly that something was wrong. Mary, his receptionist, was pale as a sheet.
Fear jolted down his spine, but he kept his voice calm. “Mary? Is everything okay?”
She swallowed and looked toward his office. “There’s a man here to see you. He seemed… Odd.”
Another, far more powerful jolt shot through him. “How so?”
“He’s… been pleasant. He just seems… I don’t know. Almost like he was casing the joint. I could just be overreacting, but he gave me a weird vibe.”
“Is he in a military uniform?”
Mary’s brow furrowed. “No, he’s wearing a suit. Why, are you expecting a military officer?”
David took a deep breath. There could be no question who this man was or why he was here. He reached for his phone to call Rogers.
Mary gave a startled yelp, and the door to the waiting room opened.
A man in his late thirties wearing a perfectly fitted Italian suit smiled at David.
His brown eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled.
His hair, prematurely gray, clung to his scalp in a short fade that looked slightly out of place above his professional outfit.
“Dr. Friedman?”
David considered his response, but there wasn’t much he could say right now, so he only said, “Yes.”
“I just need to talk to you real quick.” His eyes firmed up a little. “Just talk.”
David’s eyes traveled over the man’s suit. Faith had taught him how to tell if someone was concealing a weapon. This man’s suit was fitted nicely, revealing a toned, athletic body underneath, but no weapon that David could see.
He nodded slowly, then smiled for Mary’s benefit. “Sure.”
The man beamed, then turned around and headed for David’s office.
He walked at a measured pace, his hands relaxed at his sides.
Everything about this man was relaxed, as though this conversation with David was a minor business conversation and not a warning that the CIA was going to kill David and Faith if—
Faith!
He stopped stock still just outside of his door. The CIA agent—and that’s undoubtedly who he was—looked over his shoulder, lifting an eyebrow.
“I want to speak to my wife,” David said, keeping his voice soft so his staff wouldn’t overhear. “And just so you know, my bodyguards—”
“Agents Rogers and Hammerton will be occupied for the next few minutes,” the CIA agent replied. “They’re not going to be harmed. They’re just distracted by an altercation involving a pair of very attractive women.”
David stared incredulously at the agent. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” The agent smiled. “Men, unfortunately, are very easy. They have a powerful instinct to protect those weaker than themselves. As for Faith, she’s perfectly fine.
She’s in the middle of a very high-profile murder investigation, and all signs point to a swift and satisfactory end to that case.
” He gave David a frank look and lowered his voice.
“If I wanted to kill you, doctor, I wouldn’t do it here, and I damned sure wouldn’t show my face. ”
David’s lips thinned. He stood where he was for a moment longer, then shuffled into the room and closed the door.
The agent’s smile broadened. He removed his coat and laid it over the guest chair, then turned to David and raised his arms. “See? No hideaway weapon.”
“Why are you here?” David asked.
“To thank you.”
David blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
“To thank you. It appears that you’ve moved on from your previous curiosity.”
David stared blankly at the agent. It hit him with the force of a hurricane that this man didn’t know about his continued investigation into the 93rd.
He didn’t know that David knew about Green Glen or the CIA’s involvement, and he didn’t know that David was collaborating with someone on the inside.
The agent misunderstood David’s blank look. His smile widened again, and he nodded slightly in satisfaction. “We haven’t been properly introduced,” he said. “I’m Josiah Pharaoh. I’m one of the program administrators.”
He extended his hand, and David made himself take it. Josiah’s grip was firm but pleasant and gave the impression of immense strength easily contained. David realized with a visceral lurch that this man didn’t need a weapon of any kind to kill him.
“You’re a Marine?” David asked.
“I’m working with the Marines, yes,” the agent replied. “And we want to thank you for not pursuing your investigation.”
David didn’t reply. Josiah seemed amused rather than offended. “We don’t want trouble, Dr. Friedman. Not with you and not with your wife.”
“Is that why you tried to kill me?” David said.
He was trying to control his anger, but his fear was strengthening that emotion. And this guy was obviously trying to intimidate him. Like he was some mafioso warning David to pay his damned protection money.
Josiah chuckled politely. “Certain individuals in the chain of command overreacted. That’s’ why I’m here. To make sure we don’t have any more overreactions. From anyone.”
He clapped David on the shoulder. “That’s why we’re happy to see that you’ve let this obsession of yours go. It’s in everyone’s best interests that you’ve moved on and are, if you’ll pardon the pun, letting sleeping dogs lie.”
He paused, and David realized he was waiting for a response. He swallowed and offered a terse, “You’re welcome.”
The agent bowed slightly. “That was all. We just wanted to express our appreciation.” He grabbed his jacket and carefully put it on again. He smiled at David, and this time, his eyes were hard as glass. “One good turn deserves another, as they say.”
“Is that why you ran me off the road?”
David spoke the words before he could stop himself. Fear nearly knocked his knees together, but Josiah only chuckled benignly. “I heard about that incident. That was unfortunate. You can rest assured that with your focus returned to your own life, no such incidents will occur again.”
The subtext was clear. If your focus doesn’t return to your own life, then such incidents will occur again.
And not just to David. The agent said he didn’t want trouble. Not with David and not with David’s wife. Once more, the subtext was clear. If trouble occurs again, Faith will be involved.
And the inverse: Make sure Faith stays away too, or we’ll come for her.
There was no mistake. This was a warning.
David’s eyes wanted to stray to his computer where megabytes of collected evidence was stored behind a firewall that he now feared was far too flimsy to keep the CIA out. He struggled mightily to keep his eyes on Josiah.
Josiah’s eyes hardened. His smile disappeared. “I’m telling you the truth, Dr. Friedman. We wanted you to stop interfering and harassing us. You’ve done that. There’s no need to read into anything I’m saying.”
The smile returned. He clapped David on the shoulder, chuckling when David flinched. “Have a wonderful day, doctor.”
He left David’s office. David stood where he was, heart thudding.
They don’t know. It’s okay. They don’t know.
Then why did they come here? If they thought he was staying away, then why…
His eyes finally strayed to his computer. The power light was blinking. David always shut his computer down before leaving his office. He gasped and staggered into the guest chair, his knees suddenly weak.
Josiah wasn’t here to thank David. He was here to spy on David.
He had cracked into David’s computer and tried to determine if David was still looking into the 93rd.
Michael's firewall had held after all. They hadn’t been able to find the other desktop David was hiding.
If they had gotten through… If they had discovered what he was doing…
The door opened, and Mary rushed inside. “Doctor? David? Are you all right?”
“Fine,” David said, smiling broadly and getting to his feet.
It disconcerted him a little that he was now so good at lying.
“That was a very wealthy potential client asking me if I did private house calls. Unfortunately, the animal in question is in Kentucky, and I don’t have room in my schedule for a weeklong trip, even if it is at his expense. I recommended a good horse vet I know.”
“A horse vet. For the Kentucky Derby or something?”
“He didn’t say, but I assume so.”
Mary sighed. “Oh good. I thought you were in trouble or something.”
You don’t have the foggiest clue. “Nope. Nothing to worry about here.”
The animated voices of Rogers and Hammerton floated down the hall. “I’m telling you, man, she looks exactly like my ex.”
“I thought you hated your ex.”
“I didn’t hate everything about her.”
They walked into the room and grinned sheepishly at David.
Their uniforms were both stained from chest to knees with coffee.
“Sorry we’re late, man,” Hammerton said.
“There was a fight at the coffee shop. Couple of girls. Spilled coffee on us, themselves, and a couple of other patrons. We tried to intervene and calm things down until security arrived. Took security a while too.”
I’m not surprised. “Oh yeah?”
“Oh yeah,” Rogers agreed. “I guess some dipshit was running around vandalizing cars too. Just official FBI vehicles. Spray painting… well, inappropriate things.”
“Did they catch him?” David asked.
“No, I guess he bolted, and they decided to just pass his description along to law enforcement.”
That doesn’t surprise me either.
“It’s too bad you weren’t with us, doc,” Rogers said. “Those were the prettiest girls I’ve seen in a minute. It’s too bad you’re married.”
Hammerton chuckled, “Come on, man, don’t say that.”
Mary rolled her eyes and left the room. David listened to Rogers and Hammerton recount their encounter with the CIA operatives and tried to calm the thumping in his heart.
His nose was still filled with the stench of the predator who had come within inches of picking up his scent.