“So the question was,” she continued, “who did that leave? That’s when I started giving serious thought to a cover-up.”
“Maybe that’s what your mysterious benefactor wanted when he gave you the flash drive,” he speculated, opening the next file. “For you to investigate the possibility.”
“I wondered the same thing. But no matter how I spun it, I hated the idea. I’ve spent my entire career in service. To believe that you were innocent was to believe that my own government had conspired against you. But to what end? Why throw a decorated Navy pilot under the bus?”
“Lots of questions,” he agreed absently and clicked on another file. The first thing to open was a photograph.
His heart stopped dead before his mind fully engaged. Then he leaned in close, taking a really long look, making sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.
17
“I have no idea why his photo was included along with the OSD files,” Eva said over Mike’s shoulder. “But in case it wasn’t by accident, I checked him out anyway. His name is Joseph Lawson.” She hit the print button and waited for the printer to spit out the photograph. “I didn’t find any connection to him and Afghanistan or you or Ramon.”
Only when she turned back to him did it register how deadly quiet he’d become. So quiet, she knew something big was going on.
She watched his face as she handed him Lawson’s photograph. “You know him, don’t you?”
Several seconds ticked by while he read all the information she’d compiled on Joseph Lawson.
He stood abruptly. “We need to share this with Gabe.” Shouldering around her, he headed out of the office.
They found Gabe on the terrace talking on his cell. The minute he saw the look on Mike’s face, he said, “I’ve got to go, babe. Call you back later. Love you, too. Kiss Ali for me.” He ended the call. “What?”
Mike handed him Lawson’s picture without a word. Just as he hadn’t spoken another word to Eva after announcing that they needed to talk to Gabe.
Eva watched the exchange and shivered, sensing they were on the brink of a major breakthrough.
She breathed deep as Gabe studied the photograph. The July evening had cooled a little; that daylight was now a memory. Light from strategically placed sconces bathed the terrace in a soft glow. The fragrance of flowers spilling from a dozen planters scattered around the tile floor drifted on a soft breeze. But the soothing summer scents and colors did nothing to cut the tension that emanated from Mike in troubling waves.
She was worried about him. Which was crazy; he was a big boy. And while he wasn’t exactly her enemy, he wasn’t exactly her friend, either. Still, ever since he’d seen Lawson’s photograph, something had changed inside him. Something profound. Until that moment, she’d sensed he was only here because he’d felt he had no choice, not because he wanted answers.
There was no question that he was fully invested now.
Gabe’s expression was thoughtful as he squinted from the photo to Eva. “And?” Eva looked toward Mike for a clue.
“Tell him what you’ve got,” he said.
Eva turned back to Gabe. “That photo was included along with the OSD files. I didn’t understand why—still don’t understand why—since it didn’t seem to have any connection, but I ran it through the CIA database anyway.”
Gabe smiled. “See, you are a spy.”
“Because I’m an attorney,” she reminded him, “it’s in my nature to investigate all angles of any situation. Anyway, I got a hit. His name is Joseph Lawson.”
Gabe glanced at Mike. “Should the name sound familiar?”
Mike looked grim. “It’s going to.”
“I pulled as much intel on Lawson as I could find,” Eva continued. “And when I butted up against security clearance restrictions, I leaned on some of my friends in-house.”
“Let me guess—it was about that time your sources dried up and you started to sense you were being followed,” Gabe said.
“Now that I think about it, you’re right. That’s exactly when the stonewalling started. But not before I found out about the organization Joseph Lawson founded.”
“UWD. United We Denounce,” Mike filled in the blank when Gabe’s brows furrowed. “A radical militia survivalist group that denounces all allegiance to the U.S. government.”
Mike drew a deep breath and dropped down on a chair, his hands clasped together between his knees like he was physically attempting to get a grip, Eva thought, watching him.
Gabe held up a finger. “I remember now. Saw Lawson’s name on a government watch list several years ago. Has a big compound full of followers living somewhere in the mountains out west, right?”
Eva nodded. “UWD headquarters are in Idaho, at a commune on land Lawson’s parents left him when they died.”
“Perfect place to build a communal colony, isolate his followers from the outside world, and brainwash them,” Gabe said grimly and lifted a hand for Eva to continue.
“It’s estimated that between one hundred and one twenty-five UWD members and their families are in Idaho, but Lawson’s recently branched out. He’s started up smaller settlements in five or six states and over the past year the membership has multiplied like rabbits. UWD is now the fastest growing antigovernment group of the decade.”
“So what’s the background story on Lawson?” Gabe turned directly to Eva since Mike had grown quiet.
“Former Spec Ops. Gulf War veteran. Reports indicate he suffers from untreated PTSD with violent tendencies. Took to using his wife as a punching bag. Several years ago, when she finally filed a restraining order against him and left him, taking their only child with her, he turned radical zealot and started gathering disciples. His numbers are estimated to be pushing three hundred now.”
Gabe scratched his jaw. “So how much trouble have they stirred up?”
Eva shrugged. “They’ve actually been pretty quiet, so the FBI has been content to list them on their watch list as a cult and monitor their activities.”
When she fell silent, Gabe looked at Mike, then back to Eva. “I’m guessing that silence I hear precedes the sound of a shoe about to fall?”
She drew a deep breath. “Because of the escalating extremist rhetoric on his underground website, it’s now suspected that UWD is a front for a paramilitary operation. Recently, he was spotted in a surveillance photo meeting with a known member of the Juarez drug cartel’s La Linea.”
The Juarez organization had far-reaching tentacles, with contacts and suppliers all over the world. They were also ruthless. Too many headline stories showed crime scenes with the decapitated bodies of their victims. Recently, Acosta Hernandez had been sentenced to ten consecutive life sentences after pleading guilty to charges of racketeering, drug conspiracy, money laundering, firearms violations, murder, and conspiracy to kill in a foreign country. Hernandez had been linked to over 1,500 homicides in Mexico alone.
Gabe’s expression hardened. “So we’ve got a wacko running a cult tied to the Juarez cartel. Talk about a goatfuck.” He turned to Mike. “I still don’t get the connection to you.”
When Mike’s eyes met his friend’s, he looked haunted and hunted.
“He was in Afghanistan,” Mike finally said, his voice gruff with emotion. “The night OSD went down. I saw him. I saw Lawson. The sonofabitch was in the Mi-8 when it landed.”
Mike was low on sleep and high on fatigue. Yet as he stood alone on the terrace, he was as revved up as an Indy race car. Adrenaline, hate, and the need for revenge fueled him. His fingers were clamped so tightly around
