Shadow of Betrayal

Hardwick nodded, then leaned back against the passenger door like he was trying to put as much room between himself and the gun as possible. “All right.” He paused. “At first we weren’t sure what was happening.”

“We?” Quinn asked. “The CIA?”

“I’m not CIA anymore. I haven’t been with the Agency for over six years. NSA now.”

“Sorry. I haven’t been keeping up with your career.”

“You’ll check me out anyway and find out soon enough. I work directly with the National Security Advisor.”

“You still haven’t answered my question. I don’t think ‘we’ was in reference to the NSA, or am I wrong?”

Hardwick stared at Quinn for a moment. “You know you’re not wrong.”

“Then say it.”

“What? That the information I have has been developed by … an outside organization?”

Quinn stared at Hardwick.

“Do you want what I have to tell you or not?”

Quinn said nothing.

“Then I can continue?”

A single nod.

“At first we didn’t know what was happening. In fact, we still don’t know everything. But something bad is about to go down. That is, unless your people do something to stop it.”

“Why haven’t you tried to stop whatever it is?” Quinn said.

“We are not… equipped in that way.”

“You could have used your NSA resources. Gotten word to the right people.”

“Better to keep this separate,” Hardwick said.

Quinn snorted, but motioned for Hardwick to continue.

“I chose Los Angeles to meet for a reason,” Hardwick said. “Enough time has been wasted, but this is the last time I do any of the work for you.”

“I’m sure we can arrange a medal for you later,” Quinn said.

A perfunctory smile from Hardwick. “Northeast of here there is a facility. It used to be military, but that was decades ago. Though the facility was transferred to civilian use, it has remained very hush-hush. Even the locals don’t know about it. Not that there are really that many locals around. The government called it Yellowhammer.”

“Where exactly is it?”

“You can figure that out yourself,” Hardwick said. “Shall I go on?”

Quinn held his tongue and nodded.

“The lease has recently been transferred to a corporation out of Portland, Oregon, called Cameron-Kadash Industries. I give you the name only because you will undoubtedly want to check what I’m going to tell you. There is no such organization in Portland, or anywhere else for that matter. It does not exist. Not as an actual company, that is. The facility has been occupied. And there is something going on there. I don’t know what specifically, but its purpose seems pretty clear.”

When Hardwick didn’t go on, Quinn said, “What purpose?”

Hardwick seemed to think for a moment, then said, “I should back up a step. Last fall we were approached by a group who thought we might be interested in helping them with a project they had. As you might expect, we get these kind of offers from time to time.”

“I’m sure.”

Another smile. “This particular idea would affect multiple nations.”

“In what way?”

“Fear, panic, maybe a little chaos, too.”

“All things you at the LP love.”

“Don’t think for one minute you understand us,” Hardwick snapped. “What you know is so little that it’s the same as knowing nothing. You are in no position to make judgments about us. You have no idea what we are really about.”

“Then tell me what you’re really about. I’d be more than happy to listen.”

“That’s not what this meeting’s about.”

“Of course not,” Quinn said, not hiding his contempt.

Hardwick ignored the response, and picked up where he left off. “We strung them along for a little while, enough to learn a little more about what they were planning. But when they realized we weren’t serious, they broke off contact. I felt it was necessary to keep tabs on them. If they were really going to move forward, it would serve my group well to have advance warning.”

“The LP ready to take advantage of the situation. That’s nice,” Quinn said.

“Despite what you think, we have the best interests of the country at the front of every decision we make. I am the one bringing this to your attention. Don’t forget that.”

“And do your friends know you’re doing this?” Quinn asked.

Hardwick paused, then shook his head. “No.”

Quinn could see that Hardwick wanted to tell him more, but he remained silent.

“All right,” Quinn said. “So you’re acting on your own. We can go with that for the moment. But you still haven’t told me anything useful.”

Hardwick glanced at the gun. “Do you mind? I keep thinking your finger might slip.”

“If this goes off, it won’t be because my finger slipped.” But Quinn moved the end of the barrel a few inches to the left so that it was aimed at the door instead of Hardwick’s midsection.

“I don’t find that ver—”

He was cut off by a low hum.

“What’s that?” he asked.

Double-buzz-pause-double-buzz.

It was Quinn’s phone, the pattern indicating Nate was on the other end. Quinn knew he should ignore it, but it would be about Orlando, and he had to know she was okay.

“Don’t move or say anything,” Quinn said.

Hardwick shrugged, then nodded.

Quinn retrieved his phone and touched the Accept button.

“Yes?” he said.