CHAPTER 65
CSTC Headquarters, Maryland
Iphoned the Wilsons and let them know their son was safe and that we’d get him home as soon as we could.
This wasn’t the way I’d been planning to show Si Wilson around CSTC, but it was good to have the newest member of Team Rhino with us.
The shit show—no better word for it—on the island had been surreal.
Everything was still a little fuzzy. My pistol and my Rolex were the only personal pieces of gear I had on me.
No clothes but the smelly rags on my body, no change of socks, no toothbrush.
Tristan, of course, was one step ahead, and the team houses were stocked with clean clothes and an ample supply of whiskey. While the others drifted off to get hot showers and fresh duds, I sat down on Tristan’s back porch and, over a steaming cup of coffee, filled him in on what I knew.
“You did well, Nat. Impossible challenge right out of the gate, and you guys did a great job. Starnes and Congressman Jennings are very pleased. They know the deal and wanted me to pass on their thanks.”
Tristan knew what I knew: Team Rhino was ready to go.
“Everyone did their job. No one hesitated for a second. But Tristan, it was fucking nuts. IEDs, in America? Who kidnaps and tortures, let alone kills, a sitting US senator?”
I was still in a bit of disbelief. Tristan let me talk it through for a while before bringing me back to the next phase of the plan.
“Team Rhino stays put here in Maryland,” he said. “Plow through the hotwash, connect the dots, and come up with our next course of action. This review is just the beginning, and ODS is ready to run this thing to ground.”
“Yeah, we’re good, man, but just one quick question: What the fuck is ODS?”
Tristan laughed “Sorry, Nat, while you were vacationing in Nantucket, they decided that the official cover for Rocket’s Red Glare will be to call it the Office of Domestic Strategy. That’s who you work for now.”
It made sense to me in a roundabout way.
A paramilitary organization designed to operate outside the spotlight of the national mission should be made to sound as generic as possible.
The initials ODS brought to mind one of those ubiquitous government departments that could just as easily be rebuilding the railroads.
Whatever it took to keep wandering oversight away from yours truly.
I shook Tristan’s hand and was starting to step off the porch when I turned and asked if there was any word on Rowan Anderson.
“Best I can tell is that she’s being benched, pending the outcome of the investigation.
Basically, no gun and no fun for a while, Nat.
I gotta be honest, I don’t see how this works out for her.
The president wants a pound of flesh—and not only from whatever group is behind the plot against Senator Harrison.
Someone on her team has to pay. Wish I had better news to tell you, amigo. ”