Day at the Beach Ch 18

Chapter 18

 Special Agent Armando Martinez of the Special Branch, Anti-terrorism Task Force frowned as he clicked off the phone and set it down on his desk. He hadn't heard from Brad since their initial conversation which had brought the stolen secrets weapons problem back to life from what seemed a closed case.

    Armando needed to get an update of Brad's actions and an assessment of how dangerous Brad and Susan's situation was. He also needed to tell Brad that his commission as an army officer had been reinstated and that he was now assigned as an agent attached to Homeland Security. Brad was not the type to go rogue, and Armando knew it, but Brad assumed he was a civilian, unfettered by the rules of America's federal law enforcement agencies.
    Armando sat back in his chair and thought about that. Maybe that particular lack of knowledge wasn't all that bad. As far as Brad was concerned, he had no one to answer too. He would deal with the problems in any way that would give him the results that he wanted and keep him and Susan safe. The trouble was that Brad was working alone, not knowing that he had a safety net. That could make him extremely dangerous to any one who threatened or crossed him.
    “Special Agent Martinez.” A voice broke into his concentration. “You requested a meeting in the secured conference room. The people you summoned are assembled.”
    “Thank you. I'll be right there.”
    The conference room had no windows and was checked daily for listening devices. A long dark oak table with a highly polished surface commanded the center of the room. Matching oak chairs surrounded the table. The room wasn't particularly large, accommodating only the table and chairs with walk space around them. The walls were thick with sound proofing and covered over with the facade of a wooden finish. The carpet was wall to wall, thick and beige in color.
    Four people sat at one end of the table. Three men and one woman. Their heads turned in unison as Armando entered and closed the door behind him.
    Armando nodded to the group as he walked over to the end of the table where they were assembled and sat down in the end chair.
    As far as Armando was concerned, these four were the best of the best agents. He had personally witnessed their deadly expertise and loyalty many times in field operations. To Armando's left sat Agent Jack LaMoyne, previously a Gunny Sergeant, Expeditionary Forces, United States Marines. Next to Jack sat agent Beverly Jolson, previously a Captain with army intelligence. To Armando's right sat ex Chief Petty Officer, agents Howard Pluzinski and ex Lieutenant LeRoy Jackson, both navy seals.
    “What's up Armando?” inquired agent Jack LaMoyne.
    Armando laid a folder on the table and said, “Three years ago, some secrets were stolen.”
    Agent Howard Pluzinski snickered. “Armando, you make it sound like it was the only time any thing got stolen out of here.”
    “Okay. It's happened before, but that was the leaking of information. This was not leaked, but stolen for the purpose of selling it to our adversaries in the world. It would be comparable to giving a third world dictatorship the atomic bomb in the 1950's.
    “Certain things happened that I'm not at liberty to divulge and I'll explain why in a moment.
    “The items that were stolen had been thought destroyed, leaving the people who wanted it with nothing to get, ending the operation in a stale mate. But, the operation brought to our attention the fact that we had at least one mole in our midst, because that's the only was that it could have been stolen. The information was downloaded onto a memory stick, leaving the original information in place and seemingly untouched, but we have systems in place that reflect any tampering with highly sensitive material. The passing of the information to the sellers hit a snag when the deliverers discovered what the information was, which they were not suppose to do.
    “Anyway, what appeared to be the destruction of the material was just a rue to throw everybody off, and it worked up until now.
    “At the moment, we have a man on the ground who brought this to our attention and is now deep undercover. He's working alone. I have no idea what kind of situations he's going to get into or what's he's going to need. But, if he needs back up, extraction, or any kind of help at all, we are his team.
    I want you all to do a refresher course for hostile situations. I know you're all old pros, but we all know that practice before an operation keeps casualties down.
    “I can't give you any more information because we don't know who the mole is, and he or she might question you. Even if it's somebody you think is alright, you can't tell him something if you don't know anything. If we go into operation, I'll fill you in at that time.
    “What I've just told you is not to go beyond this room. If a superior questions you, you can refer them to myself or the Director. Any questions?”
    “Who is the agent?” Beverly asked.
    “I can't tell you that at the moment. It's best that his identity remain known to as few people as possible until we have a bigger picture of what's going on.”
    As Armando returned to his desk he thought about Brad Wilson. When Brad had gotten his third stripe, making him a buck sergeant, he was already a member of the elite Army Rangers. He had signed up for Special Forces training, a course of incredibly vigorous training and sensory deprivation. Many applied for and attempted the training. A rare few completed it. To be a member of Special Forces required almost super human physical abilities and high intelligence. Anybody who could claim to be a member of army Special Forces, Navy Seals or Delta was the very best of the very best. Brad completed the course at the top of his class, and Command Sergeant Major Armando Martinez was Brad's commander through many operations. When Brad completed OCS, Officers Candidate School and became a team leader, he requested his old friend, Armando, for his team and got him. Their friendship went beyond the military, as Armando's three children referred to Brad as 'Uncle Brad'.
    Armando was concerned about his old friend, but his feelings could not interfere with the job. The directive, as always, was the successful outcome of the operation, at what ever cost. These dedicated men and women knew this, and often put their lives on the line to fulfill the duty they had sworn to do. Nobody knew this better than Major Brad Wilson, U.S. Army Special Forces, Black Operations specialist.
    “Special Agent Martinez.” a voice behind him said formerly, intruding on his thoughts. He turned in his chair to see a tall, thin man with a beaked nose, a comb over of wisps of of graying hair that did little to hide a balding head. His normally hollow, pale eyes seemed intense as Assistant Director Samuel Levitt of the Special branch, anti-terrorism task force came up close to Armando so that only he would hear the man's words. “It has been brought to my attention - “ he said softly but with an edge to his voice. “that research on the closed secret weapons case is suddenly being done, and the research was traced to your computer. Also, I understand you had a meeting in the secure conference room with a team of operatives.
    “As the assistant director, I am to be appraised of all operations that are conducted from this agency, including cases that are being reopened. Perhaps you would like to tell me why that is not happening, and what, exactly you're doing without authorization.” It was not a request.
    Armando filed the face and name of the office clerk who had informed him that the conference room was ready before the meeting. He, apparently, was eyes in the field for Assistant Director Levitt.
    Armando smiled thinly at the man from his seat. “Good afternoon, sir.” He didn't like Levitt, and couldn't really tell you why, other than he was a person who went strictly by the book without taking human influences on a situation into consideration.
    Sam Levitt had started with the CIA straight out of Yale Law School, graduating third in his class. The man had a brilliant, analytical mind that moved him up in position more quickly than most. He had been disappointed that he had not been given the directorship, which had, instead been given to Ted Warner, a graduate of West Point, holder of the Silver Star medal for valor. He also held a law degree from Harvard. As far as Sam was concerned, the director was just a military thug, as was Armando Martinez, who, though had a bachelors degree, earned it from a minor college near his home base where he had been stationed. Men like Ted Warner and Armando Martinez belonged in the field doing dirty work, not in positions of power and authority. The brain work should be done by people with great minds, like himself. When he became director, and he would do everything in his power to achieve that goal, things would be different.
    “I didn't report to you, sir, because I have nothing to report.” Armando said courteously. “I was just doing some reviews of old cases to see if they related to any recent ones that have crossed my desk, which, of course, you are aware of.”
    “Did you find anything?” the assistant director asked.
    “No sir. Unfortunately, I didn't. When I do find something in these situations, I always inform my superiors.”
    Sam Levitt nodded. “Okay.” he said in acceptance. “What was the meeting with the field operatives all about?”
    “Reviewing current cases, sir.”
    “You needed the secure conference room for that?” he asked suspiciously.
    “Yes sir. It regarded operations in the middle east.”
    The assistant director studied Armando's face as if looking for a sign of deceit. Armando smiled causally. “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?” he asked.
    “No.” Assistant Director Levitt said as he turned and walked back down the hall to his office.
    Armando turned back to his desk and released a long, slow sigh. He picked up the phone and called Susan's number again. It was turned off and went directly to mail. “Hey! This is Armando.” he said cheerfully. “Give me a call.” He put the phone back on the desk and stared at it with worry on his face. 'What the hell is going on?', he thought. 'Why is the phone off? Where are those two?'

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