The Second Ship (The Rho Agenda #1)(110)

“Glad to see you, Bronson,” said Jack, shaking hands with the barrel-chested man in the lead. He nodded to the other two men wearing FBI windbreakers. “Bobby, George.”

“What have we got here, Jack?” Bronson asked.

Jack led the way, his briefing succinct as he showed the team through the house. The tour ended at the upstairs bathroom.

“Well, Jack, it might be possible for you to make a bigger mess of a man, but you’d really have to work at it.”

“Let’s just say the situation was…unusual. I want the body and head bagged separately and shipped back to the lab in separate containers. Take a couple of blood samples before you bag it and send those via a separate shipment.”

Bronson raised an eyebrow. “What was the guy on? Some new kind of drug?”

Jack nodded. “One we are very interested in analyzing. That’s why I don’t want to take any chances with this shipment.”

As Bronson turned to get the rest of the team started, Jack placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Be thorough, but be quick. I want the body out of here and the cleanup finished before the kid wakes up. You’ve got the cover story ready?”

“All set.”

“Good. Then I’ll get out of your way.”

The speed with which the team cleaned the upstairs, carried several bags out to the waiting unmarked cars, and departed was impressive, even to Jack. By six o’clock, only Bronson remained on site to pretend to conduct interviews with Janet and Mark. But his real purpose was to plant the cover story.

Mark was the first to come out of the drug-induced sleep, although it took several minutes before he was sufficiently coherent to carry on a conversation. Somewhere during that time, Janet joined him in the land of the conscious.

Jack moved over to sit with them. He took Janet’s hand.

“Hey, babe. How you feeling?”

Tears welled in the corners of her eyes so convincingly Jack thought she could have had a brilliant career on Broadway had she not had a taste for a more dangerous pastime.

“Oh, Jack. Thank God you’re here. I was so frightened.”

“It’s okay, darling. Can you tell me what happened?”

“I didn’t see much. I was dropping off papers in the office. A man was hiding up there, and he shot me with some sort of dart. I don’t remember anything else.”

Jack turned toward Mark. “Mark, what brought you here?”

The young man’s face grew red as he fumbled his words. “Ah, I came by to ask Mrs. Johnson a question about tomorrow’s assignment. The front door was open, so I stuck my head in. That’s when I heard someone fall. I called out, but when there was no answer, I ran upstairs. The man with the gun was waiting for me. I guess I was lucky it was only a tranquilizer gun.”

Agent Bronson strode up as Mark finished.

“Young man, you would not have been lucky if my team hadn’t arrived before the man abducted or murdered you.”

Mark’s eyes locked on the “FBI” stenciled onto the windbreaker.

For the next forty-five minutes, Special Agent Bronson questioned the three of them, taking notes on a small pad. By the time he was done asking questions and responding with information of his own, the story had been planted.

The FBI had been tracking a terrorist cell headed up by a man known as Abdul Aziz. Yes, it was the same man who had reportedly killed the scientist and his family a few months back. One of Abdul Aziz’s men had stumbled onto the FBI team this morning and then fled into the surrounding neighborhood.

The FBI team had tracked him to this house, where they discovered Mark and Janet had been taken hostage. Jack had arrived back home as the FBI special team moved into position, but had been forced to wait outside until the situation was resolved.

Luckily, that resolution had come very quickly. A federal agent managed to come in through a second-floor window and incapacitate the terrorist with a Taser stun gun.

Agent Bronson’s eyes hardened as he looked at Jack, Janet, and finally Mark.

“We’ve taken the terrorist suspect into custody, and he has been moved to a more secure location for interrogation. But I want you to understand something. Through no fault of your own, you have become involved in a matter of national security and the ongoing war on terror. Suspects of this importance are not handled through normal channels. We need to extract any information he has before his accomplices discover he’s missing. Therefore, I must inform you that everything associated with this incident must receive the highest level of security classification. You are not to speak of this to anyone else. Not to the press. Not to the police. Not to your families. Not even to each other. Any violation of this order will subject the offender to federal espionage charges, the penalty for which is imprisonment for a term of not less than thirty years. Do I make myself clear?”

“Wait just a minute,” said Jack. “We have the right to consult with an attorney about all of this.”

“No. As a matter of fact, you don’t. You are not under any sort of arrest. If, however, you decide to consult with an attorney, or anyone else, about this matter, then you will very much need an attorney. The counter espionage laws tend to paint such breaches of protocol in broad strokes of black and white. Mostly black. Do you each understand me?”

Agent Bronson shifted his gaze to Janet, who swallowed hard, but nodded. The agent turned his attention to Mark.