The Target Page 11

  The lights came on and the man stared down at the pair strapped to the long boards.

  “An hour, impressive,” he said.

  His name was Andrew Viola. Up until the year before he had been the chief trainer at the Burner Box, and before that a legendary CIA field agent who’d had a hand in some of the most complex and dangerous missions of the past twenty-five years. He would be fifty on his next birthday. He was still fit and trim, although his hair was an iron gray and his face heavily lined. And scarred from one mission that had not gone according to plan.

  He looked over at Amanda Marks, who had been observing the entire process with a look of slight revulsion. “Not for the weak of stomach, or heart,” he said.

  “And I didn’t exactly understand the purpose. Did we really expect them to sign a confession?”

  “Not my call. I was told to do this and I did it. CIA lawyers and upper management can figure out the rest.”

  “This was my mission to run,” she said.

  “And it still is, Amanda. I’m not stepping on toes here. But I had my orders. And”—he glanced down at Robie and then Reel—“unlike some, I always follow orders.”

  “So what now?”

  “My work here is done until I’m called up again. So I might see these two again before they leave here. If they leave here,” he corrected himself.

  “They both believe they were brought here to die,” said Marks.

  “And you don’t think that’s a possibility?” asked Viola, looking mildly surprised. “Recruits do die here. It’s rare, but it happens. This is not summer camp, Amanda.”

  “That’s different. Accidents happen. And Robie and Reel are not recruits. They are vets and battle-tested. But if the purpose from the start was—”

  He cut her off. “Don’t try to think too much about it. Just do your job. You’ll be happy, and so will the higher-ups.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you?”

  He glanced sideways at her. “Maybe in the past. Maybe. But not anymore.”

  “What changed?”

  “We were attacked. The Towers fell. The Pentagon was hit. Planes crashed. Americans died. Now I try to see the world only in black and white.”

  “The world is not black and white.”

  “That’s why I said I try to do it.”

  He turned and left the room.

  Marks came forward and stared down at the two unconscious agents. She thought back to her meeting with Evan Tucker before coming here. The director had been understandably clear on the outcome he wanted. On the surface it appeared fair and evenhanded. If they passed the test, they passed. They would be redeployed. Simple and straightforward.

  But then this had come—the order for the waterboarding to be conducted by Viola. The man was excellent at his job, Marks knew. But he had, well, a ruthlessness, a moral compass that did not seem to actually encompass any morals at all. That bothered her.

  A signed confession admitting to murder and treason?

  That had to have come from Evan Tucker. No one else in the agency would have dared issue such an order. So the rules had changed. Tucker was using the Burner Box not only to test and break Robie and Reel. He also wanted them to admit to acts that would result in their imprisonment. He had not told her this part of the plan. He had been wise not to, because Marks would have refused.

  This seemingly simple thought stunned her. She had never before refused to carry out a direct order. It was just not something one did. Failing to do that had been the cause of both Robie’s and Reel’s current troubles.

  Am I becoming like them?

  She heard Robie and Reel moan and then they started to come around.

  She turned to one of her men. “Take them back to their room. Let them sleep. I’ll give directions for when their next testing will begin.”

  This order was carried out immediately. She watched Robie and Reel being carried back to their room.

  Their prison cell, more like it.

  Maybe their death row.

  Chapter

  16

  ROBIE WOKE FIRST. THERE WERE no windows in the room so he had no idea what time it was. Their watches had been taken from them up on arrival. He slowly sat up and rubbed his aching head. He leaned over from the top bunk and saw Reel still sleeping in the lower berth.

  Robie swallowed with difficulty and cringed when he tasted the remnants of the vomit still in his mouth and throat.

  “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

  He looked down again to see Reel staring up at him.

  “Not something I’d want to go through every day.”

  He swung his legs over the edge, dropped to the floor, and sat down on her bunk. She curled up her legs to give him room.

  “To what purpose?” she asked. “They couldn’t really believe we’d sign a confession.”

  Robie looked up at the listening device, but Reel shook her head. “I don’t care if they hear.” She sat up and said in a loud voice, “Not confessing to jack shit!”

  She looked back at Robie, who was smiling.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “Nothing. Well, I just like your subtle style, Jessica.”

  She started to snap something back, but then stopped. And laughed.

  He joined in for a few seconds.

  And then they both grew quiet as footsteps approached.

  The door opened and both of them immediately drew back, balled tight, hands up, reflexes ready. Taking them again would require a fight.

  However, only Evan Tucker stood there.

  Robie shot Reel a glance. Her look was so ferocious that he was afraid she was about to attack the DCI. He was actually putting out his arm to forestall this when she said, “Good morning, Director. Did you have a nice sleep last night? We did. Best in years.”

  Tucker managed a tight smile at this comment and then sat down in the chair opposite them. His suit was wrinkled and the collar of his shirt was slightly grimy, as though his journey here had not exactly been at first-class levels.

  “I know what happened to you last night. I ordered it.”

  “Good to know,” said Robie. “So is that a confession? Because I thought the use of waterboarding was illegal.”

  “It is illegal for purposes of interrogation on detainees. Neither of you are detainees and it was not done for interrogation purposes.”

  “We were asked to sign confessions,” Reel pointed out.

  “A subterfuge only. There were no confessions for you to sign.”

  “That’s not what the guy said last night. And the terms of the confession he recited were pretty specific,” noted Robie.

  “He had his script and he stuck to it. But there was no confession.”

  “So what was the point of the thing, then?” demanded Reel.

  “To see if you two can still cut it. The mission you’re to be deployed on entails the risk of being caught. And the enemy is known to use waterboarding among other interrogation tools to break prisoners. It’s not all about being able to shoot straight.”

  “And so this had nothing to do with the hard-on you have for me, Director?” said Reel. “You really expect us to believe that?”

  “I don’t care what you believe or don’t believe. I’ve made my position on you very clear. You murdered two of my people and got off scot free. I think that stinks. I think you should be in jail, but it’s not my call. I still have my job to do and so do you. My job is to keep this country safe against outside threats. You two are tools that I have at my disposal. I will deploy you as necessary. If I think it wise to push your butts to the wall and then through it, I will do so. If you feel you can’t cut it, then you can tell me right now and we cut out all this bullshit.”

  He stopped talking and looked at them expectantly.

  “And if we want out?” said Robie.

  “Then that can be made to happen. But chances are very good that your partner will be prosecuted for murder. And you as an accessory.”

  “So if we s
tay in and maybe get killed, either by the other side or our own people, we don’t end up in court?” said Reel.

  “Did you really expect anything more generous than that?” said Tucker skeptically. “You want to begin to wipe the slate clean of what you did, then suck it up, finish up here, and successfully execute the upcoming mission. If you want to cut and run, then that’s a whole other ball game. Your choice. But make it now. I don’t have time to waste.”

  “Is that why you’re here?” asked Robie. “To deliver the ultimatum?”

  “No, I’m here to finally lay to rest any misconception you two might have about my motives. You were not sent here to be killed. I’m far too busy to even have time to think about something like that. The fact is, in the grand scheme of things none of us is that important. Now, we have an opportunity to do something that will make the world a far better, far safer place. I need to know that you’re with me on this one thousand percent, or I have no use for you at all. Again, your decision. And again, I need it now.”

  He once more quieted and looked at them.

  Robie was the first to speak. “I’m in.”

  Reel nodded. “Me too.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Tucker rose, opened the door, and was gone.

  Before Reel and Robie could even say a word they heard the sounds of someone else approaching.

  A few moments later an orderly wheeled a cart in. It was loaded with breakfast foods and a carafe of coffee. Another orderly brought in two foldable chairs. They set up the table, laid out the food and coffee, and departed.

  Reel and Robie had not moved the entire time. Finally, they looked at each other.

  “You think there’s cyanide in it?” he asked.

  “I don’t care. I’m starving.”

  They rose, sat down in the chairs, and attacked the food and drank down the hot coffee. They said nothing as they devoured the meal.

  Then they sat back looking both satisfied and energized.

  Reel said, “You can never overestimate the effect of a good meal on one’s spirits.”

  “Yeah, but maybe it’s just that they’re fattening the calf before leading it to slaughter.”

  “So that was our last meal before execution?”

  “Wish I could tell you one way or another,” Robie replied. “Before Tucker showed up, I was pretty sure we were done for. Now I’m not so sure.”

  “Strange he came all this way to tell us something we already knew.”

  “You think he was sincere?”

  “Give me a break. He was lying his ass off.”

  “For what reason?” asked Robie.

  “Spies lie. And he’s probably covering his butt on the waterboarding thing.”

  “Did he need to? It’s not like we belong to a union and can file a grievance.”

  Footsteps sounded again, and each of them instinctively gripped the knives next to their plates. However, it was merely the orderly retrieving the table. Another escort was with him. He led them to the showers, where they cleaned up and changed into fresh clothes.

  As they were walked back to their room Reel whispered into Robie’s ear, “This is freaking me out more than the waterboarding. Why are they being nice to us?”

  Robie whispered back, “Maybe Tucker gave the word.”

  “Like I believe that.”

  Four hours passed before someone came for them again. They were told to change into running gear. Then they were taken by Jeep to a remote part of the facility, deep within the forest, and dropped off.

  The weather wasn’t bad. In the forties, a little overcast, but the sun was high in the sky and warming. Robie calculated it was about two o’clock in the afternoon.

  After the vehicle drove off, someone stepped onto the path from behind some trees. They turned to see who it was.

  Amanda Marks stood there wearing a running suit and Nikes.

  “I trust you’re well fed and rested?” she said.

  “And clean,” said Reel. “Let’s not forget that.”

  “Then let’s take a run, shall we?” Without waiting for their answer, Marks turned and jogged off.

  Robie and Reel glanced confusedly at one another before joining her, he on the right, she on the left.

  “So did you know Tucker was coming down today?” asked Reel.

  “At the last minute. What did he want to talk to you about?”

  “You mean he didn’t tell you?” asked Robie.

  “If he had I wouldn’t be asking you.”

  “He wanted to let us know our being here was not part of a personal vendetta. He said we were waterboarded not in order to facilitate a confession, because there was no such thing, but rather to make sure we could withstand it in case we were captured.”

  “And did you believe him?” asked Marks.

  “Would you?” Reel shot back.

  “I don’t know. I really don’t. He’s a more complicated person than I initially thought.”

  “I don’t trust him,” said Reel.

  “If I were in your position, I wouldn’t trust him either,” replied Marks.

  Reel said, “I take it the food and rest and showers were your doing?”

  “Well, they certainly weren’t the DCI’s, or Andrew Viola’s initiative.”

  “Viola,” said a surprised Reel. “He’s involved in this?”

  “I thought you would have recognized his voice at the little waterboarding session. You two overlapped here, right? And I know you were in the field with him on a couple of missions.”

  “That’s right, but I didn’t recognize the voice.”

  “Probably had your mind on other things,” said Marks dryly. She looked at Robie. “Do you know Viola?”

  “Only by reputation. He’s really good.”

  “Rock-solid warrior who never wavers from the playbook,” replied Marks.

  Reel and Robie exchanged a quick glance. Reel said, “Is that why we’re out here jogging in the middle of the forest? So we can talk candidly?”

  “Let me put it this way. I already ran ten miles this morning. So from a physical fitness point of view there’s no reason for me to be out here.”

  “So Viola is a team player,” said Robie.

  “And you’re not?” added Reel.

  “Didn’t say that,” replied Marks. “I am a team player.”

  “And the little near-drowning session last night?” noted Reel.

  “Not my call. And I wasn’t picked to run it. That’s where Viola stepped in.”

  “Surprised I hadn’t seen him at the facility before,” said Reel inquiringly.

  “He was just called back in from temp duty elsewhere,” answered Marks.

  “By Evan Tucker?” asked Robie, swinging his arms loosely and popping his neck as they ran along at a comfortable pace.

  “Don’t know for sure, but I certainly wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case. Viola is a high-level asset. He wouldn’t be called in by a midlevel grunt. And I certainly didn’t do it as the DD.”

  “So why wouldn’t Tucker rely on you to do the dirty work?” Robie wanted to know.

  Reel added, “Did you refuse to waterboard us?”

  Marks ran along for another thirty feet before answering. “He never asked me to.”

  “And if he had?” Reel persisted. “What would you have done?”

  “I never agreed with torturing bad guys, much less our own agents.”

  “Well, undoubtedly Tucker was aware of that,” said Robie. “And didn’t bother to ask you to do it. Obviously, Viola had no issue with doing it.”