Cloud Dust: RD-1 (R-D #1)(80)

Instead, we had no idea and were in the process of getting four wealthy businessmen extradited from Canada when we learned what else was on their agenda.

An outdoor college graduation ceremony was gassed with a mist version of the drug and more than ten thousand died, in and outside the stadium. A handful of others had been affected and changed, the same as in Colfer, Montana. Just as before, other departments took the lead on that, and I'd only received perfunctory calls from the President so far, although I had a meeting scheduled with her later.

The country was going nuts, Afghanistan was ready to declare war after the killings there and several other Middle Eastern countries were siding with them. Ugly demonstrations were occurring across the Middle East, while effigies of the President alongside American flags were being burned in the streets. My meeting with Madam President would cover initial responses to the debacle in the Middle East.

I drank a cup of coffee in the cafeteria while watching the news with Rafe and James. None of the media coverage was good and the population, understandably, was panicked. We needed more information, and we needed it soon. Just like the attack at the Louvre—it looked as if Americans were involved in these acts of terrorism.

"We need to be able to point a finger at these *s," I muttered, slapping my cup onto the table.

"I'll see if I can get Corinne up," Rafe nodded to me.

Neither he, James nor I had gotten any sleep; we'd been up all night, following the events in Afghanistan. Madam President had spoken with authorities in the country, who were understandably incensed that nearly fifteen hundred of their citizens had been killed by Americans under contract with the U.S. government.

"Get coffee in her, then see what we can do about this mess," I nodded. It didn't matter that the Americans who'd done the killing were rogues operating outside the law and at someone else's command. The mere fact that we'd sent them into Afghanistan to begin with bloodied our hands as well.

We also needed information as to why the ones behind Civilian Security Services chose to kill in Montana and Georgia. That information had to be provided to the media, who were making wild speculation on how and why the government failed to protect them.

Dante Dolsen was the primary owner, with more than half ownership of Civilian Security Services. He was also an American, just as the other three were, but all four lived in Canada.

All four protested our emergency request to the Canadian government to extradite them and sought a judicial review of the Minister's surrender order. They had enough money to convince anyone that they were uninvolved with the events in Afghanistan. They hadn't been linked yet to the U.S. attacks.

An official call to the IRS indicated that a large portion of Civilian Security Services' investments were likely held in Canadian or other foreign banks, and they'd been avoiding proper taxation for years. Recent legislation had been passed in an attempt to close that loophole, but the problem lay in forcing financial institutions from other countries to obey U.S. tax laws.

"James," I said. "Have those photographs ready for Corinne, since Rafe is going to get her up. We only need five minutes of her time if she's still groggy. Make sure every television in this f*cking facility is turned off, too, while you're at it."

"Yes, sir."

*

Corinne

"My love, wake now. We need you." Ilya's voice woke me. Groggy didn't begin to describe how I felt—Leo had given more than enough of a sleep aid to an exhausted person to keep them sleeping round the clock.

"Honey, no," I mumbled. "Sleep."

"I know," he rubbed my back gently. "You have to get up. Colonel Hunter needs your help. Everyone needs your help." His lips were warm against my temple as he kissed me.

"Feel awful," I said.

"I know. Headache gone?" Fingers brushed hair away from my face.

"No."

"We'll find something for it. Come with me, my darling. Ten minutes of your time is all we require."

That's how I ended up shuffling beside Rafe down a long hallway, wearing a bathrobe and shambling along like a drunken gazelle. Rafe kept a hand on my arm so I wouldn't wander into walls as we walked.

"Coffee?" Rafe said as he and I walked into Auggie's office.

"Here." James' voice—I couldn't see him since my eyes attempted to close once I stopped moving.

"Drink this," a paper cup was shoved into my hands. If I'd been awake, I'd have savored the warmth of it. Instead, I drank, the hot brew almost scalding my tongue as I swallowed.

"Here, Cori," I heard a wheeled office chair as it rolled backward. Hands pushed me onto it and I sat. "We really need you to look at these pictures," Auggie said. I swallowed another mouthful of coffee and forced my eyes open.

Four photographs were displayed on a computer screen, so I fought to bring them into focus.

"Dante Dolsen," I whispered as I stared at his image. "Dead."

"Francis Pike," I went to the next photograph. "Dead."

"Karl Graham," I named the third man. "Dead."

"Langston Coffman," I nodded at the fourth photograph. "Dead."

"What the hell?" Auggie exploded behind me. His cell phone rang. I listened and drank more coffee as he spoke to someone in the CIA. All four owners of Civilian Security Services had died moments earlier while visiting their attorney's office.