THE THOUSAND DOLLAR TRAITOR: A Colt Ryder Thriller by J.T. Brannan

Author:J.T. Brannan [Brannan, J.T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grey Arrow Publishing
Published: 2023-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

“The trouble is,” Schumann said, “according to my system, there are no people by the names of Daniel Hastings and Grant Rawlins working for US Army CID.”

I let out a sigh, and drank some very welcome coffee.

Shit.

So who the hell were those guys?

We were in a hotel room at Hiton Arlington National Landing, just off Richmond Highway a little way south of the Pentagon. After my investigation had started in earnest, we figured it wasn’t wise to be seen together in public.

“You recognize them from the pictures though?” I asked. “You seen them around the Pentagon anywhere?”

“No, faces don’t ring any bells, but I’ve put them in the system, I’ll call you if we get any hits.”

“What are you checking it with?”

“Everything,” Schumann assured me, “both foreign and domestic, everything we have on file. And believe me, we’ve got pretty much everything on file here.”

That was a reassuring thought. Schumann worked for the clearing house of US intelligence, the NJOIC – and if they didn’t have the answers, nobody would.

“Thanks,” I said. “What about the vehicle?”

“Well, that’s where it gets interesting,” he said. “The vehicle is registered to the DoD, part of the Pentagon motor pool. And it was signed out, but not by Army CID.”

“So by who then?”

“A lieutenant called David Caffrey. Now, this guy is actually real.”

“And he works where exactly?”

This time, Schumann paused, as if reluctant to tell me. “ISD,” he said eventually. “Counterespionage Department.”

“You’re shitting me?” I said. “Corey’s own unit? Your old friend Hugh Shaw’s unit?”

“Yes.”

“Shit. You ask him about it?”

“Not yet. No, not yet.”

I decided to leave the issue for now – Schumann was clearly conflicted by it – and look at it from another angle.

“Sounds like they’re working to pin this thing on those addicts,” I said. “And they’ve got Metro PD on their side, at the very least. You manage to find out anything about the case?”

“Yeah,” Schumann said, “they feel it’s pretty tight, DA’s office is already writing up murder charges. How sure are you that this thing goes deeper?”

“You were listening earlier weren’t you?” I asked, and Schumann laughed.

“Yeah, I was listening. And you’re right, this thing stinks to high Heaven.”

The evidence of a professional killing and cover-up was incontrovertible, in my eyes. There was the sign of forced entry on the patio door; the missing chair covers – and Kane’s blood-reaction to the chair and the floor; the neighbor’s reports of people moving around Corey’s apartment at midnight, the car pulling up on Bowen Road sometime between one and one-thirty; Kane’s reaction to the scene at Howard Road, following the trail to the alleyway; the video we’d found at the drug house, the suspect vehicle moving down the alley at exactly the right time; the witness statement, doctored as to timings and content. Everything added up to it being a hit by a professional team of assassins, and a cover-up orchestrated by one or more government agencies.

“Any luck with the autopsy?” I asked, and Schumann shook his head.

“No,” he said, “results went missing.

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