Honorable Lies (A Titus Black Thriller Book 6) Read online

  The waiter eased up to their table and placed a drink in front of Franks.

  “Is this what you wanted to know from me?” Franks asked.

  Blunt surveyed the room again before speaking in a hushed tone. “We’ve learned about a few low-level terrorist groups—the kind that nobody pays attention to—sneaking a few operatives into the country to create sleeper cells.”

  “I’m aware of this,” Franks said. “And we were catching every one of them, according to the intelligence report I read.”

  “Key word there is were,” Blunt said. “Nobody has been arrested for almost six weeks.”

  “Maybe those groups wised up and stopped sacrificing their people.”

  “But they were never sacrificing them,” Blunt said. “They were deemed such insignificant groups that they were simply being flown home only to try again. But now, nothing.”

  Franks took a long pull on his glass before setting it back down. “So what you’re suggesting is that they are getting into the country now?”

  “That’s precisely what I’m saying.”

  “What’s changed?” Franks asked.

  “A rogue Mossad agent is believed to have obtained the identities of deep cover agents embedded in various terrorist organizations across the Middle East,” Black explained. “They were placed there to gain trust and develop a resume of sorts before migrating to bigger organizations like ISIS. But now these agents are starting to show up dead, while the terrorists sneaking into the country aren’t getting caught at the various ports.”

  “Maybe it’s a security issue.”

  Blunt emphatically shook his head. “There might be some ineptitude, but not that much across the board all of a sudden. You can try to explain it away however you wish, but you know what this looks like.”

  “You think there’s a leak,” Franks said.

  “Think? I know there’s a leak. But we have to figure out where it’s coming from before we have a real problem on our hands, the kind we can’t control.”

  “And you think Col. Marshall is somehow connected to the leaks?”

  Blunt shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. I need to know who on the committee has the closest ties to Col. Marshall and might be loyal to him, even after what happened with the dismantling of the Fullgood Initiative.”

  “That’s easy,” Franks said. “Senator Ted Neil.”

  “Neil?” Blunt asked, his mouth falling agape.

  “I know he doesn’t seem like the type because he’s such a rah-rah patriot guy, but he worked in Army Intelligence and served with Neil in Vietnam. Those two were tight.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Blunt said. “I need to go pay Neil a visit.”

  “If you do, be careful,” Franks warned. “If Neil feels threatened, there’s no telling what he might do.”

  Blunt smiled wryly. “Good because that’s what I’m counting on.”

  Chapter 24

  Dante B. Fascell Port

  Miami, Florida

  BLACK OPENED HIS EYES slowly as he was helped to his feet. The scene around him was a blur. People scurried back and forth across the deck of the ship. A ball of fire raged behind him. His ears were ringing from the blast. While Black had experienced the aftermath of an explosion before, handling it never got easier.

  “We’ve gotta hustle,” Shields said, leading him in the direction of the stairs. “Who knows what else is on this ship.”

  Black glanced over his shoulder at ground zero. The bomber had been nearly disintegrated in the blast. Shields guided Black around a body, but he stopped to take a look at the man, who was still clinging to life.

  “Agent Diaz?” Black said as he knelt next to the man.

  “Tell my wife and kids I love them,” Diaz said, applying pressure to a wound on his chest.

  Black nodded. “I’d rather you do it yourself.”

  As Black attempted to scoop up Diaz and carry him, the customs agent shook his head. “No, I’m not going to make it. And even if I could, I would go to prison. Just let me be.”

  “Your family needs you,” Black said, declining to adhere to Diaz’s wishes.

  Diaz removed his hands from his chest, revealing a piece of shrapnel lodged just below his heart. His gaze met Black’s. “I won’t last long. Just get out of here and pass the message along to my family for me, please.”

  Black relented, easing his hands from underneath Diaz. “I’ll make sure your wife and daughters know.”

  Shields tugged on his arm. “We need to hurry.”

  Black stood and followed his partner down the steps. By the time they reached the dock, sirens wailed in the distance. He turned and looked up at the scene, smoke billowing in the air and wafting across the harbor.

  Shields sighed. “I’m not really interested in speaking with local authorities about this. Are you?”

  Black tightened his lips and shook his head. “Let’s go.”

  They hustled back to the van where Jana was waiting for them.

  “Are you guys okay?” she asked.

  “We’re fine,” Black said.

  “I want you to know that I didn’t set that last explosion. I—”

  “We know, Jana,” Shields said.

  “Well, what was that?” Jana asked.

  “A suicide bomber,” Black said. “I guess the man didn’t want to be caught and decided he’d rather blow himself up. It made no sense given the fact that we’ve simply been shipping these people back to where they came from.”

  “It’s almost impossible to understand the mind of a zealot,” Jana said. “Trust me. I grew up around them in Jordan. About the only thing you can know about them with any certainty is that they will defy logic and reason.”

  Shields glanced at Black’s left arm. “You’re bleeding.”

  He glanced at it and shrugged. “It’s nothing. I can dress it at the hotel. But let’s get out of here.”

  Shields drove them back to the hotel in relative silence. Black had plenty he wanted to say, but he was still trying to gather his wits, grateful that he’d jumped out of the direct line of the blast. Diaz hadn’t been so lucky, and the image of the dying customs agent was seared into Blunt’s mind.

  That could’ve been me.

  When they’d all retreated inside their hotel room, Black sat down at the table. Shields went to work on cleaning up and bandaging Black’s injury. A three-inch gash on his left bicep wasn’t too deep, but it hadn’t stopped bleeding.

  “You need some stitches,” Shields said.

  Black offered a thin smile. “Know a good nurse?”

  “I dressed up as Nurse Ratched once for Halloween,” Shields said.

  “I only need stitches, not a mid-brain lobotomy.”

  Jana walked over to him and picked up the first aid kit. “I can do it.”

  “So can Shields,” Black said. “But if you would describe your touch as a gentle one, I’ll let you do it.”

  He winked at Shields, who sneered at him, while Jana went to work stitching up Black’s arm.

  “Good work on the pyrotechnics tonight,” Black said to Jana.

  “Thanks,” she said. “Happy to help.”

  Shields paced around the room. “We may not have caught one of these scumbag terrorists tonight, but I think it proves what Levine was saying about these guys sneaking into the country. Knowing when and where those ships were arriving into certain ports would’ve allowed for someone to pay off customs agents or at least arrange for the ones susceptible to coercion to be on duty.”

  “Who has that kind of power?” Jana asked.

  “It wouldn’t even really be about power,” Black said. “A customs agent could ask to work a certain night or a certain portion of the dock. Making that happen wouldn’t be a big deal. It’s the removal of our deep cover agents who could alert Homeland Security about possible arrivals that’s made this all possible.”

  “And now we have no idea how many of these terrorists have entered the country,” Shields said.

 
Black winced as Jana pulled a thread tight. “We need to keep compiling data on them, but at least we aren’t working in theory any more. It’s a fact that this is and has been happening.”

  “I want to take another run at Zahid,” Shields said. “He’s the key to this whole thing.”

  “Trying to figure out who’s behind this and gathering enough evidence to prosecute them will take a while,” Black said. “And by the time we catch whoever is responsible for this, it could be too late.”

  “Agreed,” Shields said.

  Jana finished up on Black’s arm. “All better now.”

  “We’ll see how it heals before I agree with you,” Black said. “The more gnarly the scar, the cooler in my book.”

  “You’re welcome?” Jana said, tentatively.

  Shields laughed. “He’s not thanking you yet, Jana. But he will.”

  She kicked him in the shin.

  Black moaned as he reached for his leg. “That’s an assault with a deadly weapon right there.”

  “Stop looking for sympathy, tough guy,” Shields said.

  Black glared at her and shook his head. “You think this is funny, don’t you?”

  Shields winked. “Of course not. It’s torture.”

  Black inspected Jana’s job once more before getting up and sitting on the foot of the bed. “We need to tell Blunt what happened here tonight. Any volunteers?”

  Both women looked at him blankly.

  “Okay, fine. I’ll do it,” Black said.

  He walked back to the table to pick up the phone, when it buzzed with an incoming call. Shields snatched it up and glanced at the name on the screen.

  “It’ll have to wait,” she said. “It’s Besserman.”

  She put the call on speaker and answered.

  “How did the operation go?” he asked.

  “It’ll be in the news soon enough,” she answered.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Actually not all bad,” Shields said. “We’re all alive and we know that Levine was telling the truth about terrorists sneaking into the country. But unfortunately, we don’t have anyone to interrogate.”

  “Maybe not there, but you may have someone soon enough,” Besserman said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’ve got another lead on Zahid,” Besserman said. “You up for taking another run at him?”

  Shields grinned and looked at Black. “Just tell us where we need to go.”

  “Get back to Washington and I'll get you briefed,” Besserman said. “But right now he’s off the coast of Greece.”

  Chapter 25

  Washington, D.C.

  AS BLUNT SHUFFLED DOWN the sidewalk toward Johnny’s Half Shell restaurant, he contemplated what had transpired the night before on a cargo ship in Miami. The report from his team left him relieved that at least President Young would feel vindicated in sticking his neck out for Blunt. But there was still plenty of work to be done, including catching who had orchestrated the attack on the cruise ship. Blunt needed to feel out Ted Neil and see how the Colorado senator would react to the news.

  Blunt yanked open the door to the restaurant, the aroma of seafood instantly bringing a smile to his face. His mouth started salivating the moment he walked by a table with piping hot Maryland crab cakes, Blunt’s favorite. He wound his way through the restaurant until he found Senator Neil tucked away in a corner booth in the back. He was sipping a glass of bourbon and studying the menu.

  “I know that’s just a prop for you,” Blunt said, nodding at the menu. “If I told you that every bill you ever proposed would pass if you could list off every item this restaurant serves, I bet you could do it.”

  Neil chuckled and extended his hand to Blunt. “You’re delightful as ever, J.D.”

  The two men shook hands before Blunt eased into his seat across from Neil. The Colorado senator wasn’t wearing a tie and his sleeves were rolled up just below his elbows.

  “I introduced you to good barbecue and you introduced me to this place,” Blunt said.

  “Two hours here is the equivalent of a culinary joy ride,” Neil said. “I’m not sure you can leave this place with your pants not busting at the seams and a smile plastered on your face.”

  “That’s how you know you’re doing it right.”

  Neil grinned and nodded. “Absolutely. So, I don’t imagine you wanted to meet just to discuss good food now, did you?”

  Blunt shook his head.

  “So, what’s on your mind, J.D.?”

  “Well, before I get into all that, I wanted to find out about how that young woman was doing?”

  “Campbell Morgan?”

  “Yeah, she’s the one.”

  Neil buttered a piece of bread. “She’s doing quite well, actually. Just adjusting back to normal life, which is more quickly than I think her parents thought possible.”

  “How so?” Blunt asked.

  “She’s jumped in with both feet to help me with my campaign,” Neil said. “I tried to dissuade her and told her to take her time, but she insisted. She said she wanted to repay me somehow for what I did.”

  “Whenever you go through something traumatic like that, it has a way of changing you. I’ve got more experience with that than I ever wished to have.”

  Neil waved dismissively at Blunt. “It only makes you stronger if you don’t let it beat you.”

  “Is that what you told Miss Morgan?”

  “I didn’t need to tell her anything. It’s like she already knew. She’s one damn tough dame. As a matter of fact, she’s helping me with my big campaign rally event in a week and a half at Mile High Stadium in Denver.”

  “You doing a fundraiser?” Blunt asked.

  Neil nodded. “Yep. And the one hundred wealthiest men in all of Colorado will be there, too. Sure you don’t want to join us, maybe speak to the security issues facing our nation today? President Young is scheduled to speak there as well.”

  Blunt shook his head. “I already know the president, and I prefer to keep a lower profile.”

  “It’d be a great place to network.”

  Blunt laughed. “I think I’m good when it comes to networking.”

  “You can never have enough friends,” Neil said with a wink.

  “Look, when you can go to Mogadishu and meet up with someone who can lead you across the Ogo Mountains, you probably can consider your network complete.”

  Neil’s eyes widened. “Are you speaking English because I didn’t understand what the hell you just said?”

  “Ah, forget about it,” Blunt said.

  “So, what did you want to talk about?” Neil asked. “From the tone of your voice, it sounded urgent.”

  “It is,” Blunt said, leaning forward before glancing around the room. “How familiar are you with the Fullgood Initiative?”

  “Those sons of bitches at the Pentagon who were carrying out vigilante justice?”

  Blunt nodded. “Those are the ones.”

  “I’ve read about their activities in security briefings and a few articles in the paper. Not much more than that though. Why?”

  “Are you sure?” Blunt asked. “I was under the impression that you were good friends with Col. Marshall, who was supposedly in charge of the whole thing.”

  “I mean, sure, we were longtime golf partners and served together overseas, but I wasn’t aware of what he was doing right under our noses.”

  Blunt surveyed the room and returned his attention to Neil. “I’m only telling you this because we’re friends and I don’t want you to get surprised by anything.”

  Neil shifted in his seat. “For goodness sake, J.D., spit it out.”

  “I have it on good authority that the Department of Homeland Security is conducting an investigation into everyone they consider close to Col. Marshall.”

  “If I’m on that list, Homeland has a very liberal definition of what close means,” Neil said with a sneer.

  “No matter how you might define it, I know you’re on that l
ist,” Blunt said.

  Neil scowled. “You think they’re looking into me?”

  Blunt nodded.

  “Why in the world would they be looking into anyone at this point?” Neil asked. “Col. Marshall already confirmed that he was behind everything.”

  “I guess they’re looking for other people who helped him,” Blunt said.

  “I thought the object was always to cut off the head of the snake.”

  “Perhaps there’s a different end game in play here.”

  Neil furrowed his brow. “Like what?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” Blunt said. “But I intend to find out.”

  “Okay, thank you for the heads up,” Neil said. “I’ll make sure that we sever all ties with him. The last thing I need right now in the middle of fundraising season is my name in the news as closely associated with Col. Marshall.”

  “You ain’t kiddin’,” Blunt said. “The press would eat you alive.”

  The waiter returned to take Blunt’s order. While they waited for their entrees to arrive, the two men discussed everything from the political climate to old military stories. And Blunt was enjoying every second of it.

  The trap had been sprung.

  Chapter 26

  39°12’42.3"N, 20°07’15.2"E

  Off coast of Paxos Island, Greece

  BLACK CHECKED THE coordinates one last time that Besserman had given them before dropping anchor in the turquoise water. The Ionian Sea gently rocked their boat beneath a clear blue sky. Shields, sporting a bikini and a straw sunhat, eased onto a seat facing the shore and then pulled out her magazine. She licked her thumb before turning each page slowly.

  “What are you reading?” Black asked as he removed his t-shirt.

  “A psychology magazine,” she said. “It’s an article about PTSD and the effects on soldiers upon returning home.”

  “Interesting,” Black said. “What’s it say?”

  “It says that some male soldiers can’t resist ripping off their shirts whenever given the opportunity.”

  “What’s it say about women soldiers?”

  “It says that they’re generally regarded as wiser and more prudent than their male counterparts.”