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Authors: Thomas A. Mays
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the sides of the tac trucks: DHS.
Nathan cursed and slammed on the brakes, bringing the coupe to a screeching sideways stop. The three sedans arrived and also came to screaming halts, arrayed behind him to block any escape he might still be considering. There were guns everywhere, all pointed at him, and he still had no idea what this was all about.
A severe looking woman in a dark gray suit emerged from the back seat of one of the first sedans. She held up an ID, though it was impossible for Nathan to read from this distance. “Mr. Kelley, this is the Department of Homeland Security. Step out of the vehicle and come with us. We have some questions for you.”
He carefully opened the door and climbed out of the low-slung car, hands held high. No sooner was he out than there were three agents in black utilities on him, his arms held painfully against his back, his face and chest pressed hard against the hood of the car. They frisked him with brutal efficiency while others began rifling through the car and cracking the encryption on his suite. He heard the rapid clipping of heels on asphalt and the female agent, undoubtedly the leader of this merry band, was behind him, whispering in his ear. “Why were you running from us, Mr. Kelley?”
Nathan fought a losing battle to keep the pain out of his voice. “Why were you chasing me? I didn’t know who you people were until your trucks showed up! You didn’t exactly go out of your way to introduce yourselves.”
“Mr. Kelley, we often find introducing ourselves to someone like you merely an invitation to bullets or the destruction of evidence. My sincerest apologies for any discomfiture you may have experienced, but you’ll have to excuse us for learning from our bloody past.”
A fresh jab from the man holding his arms elicited a long groan. Nathan gritted his teeth to cut it off and said, “What do you mean, ‘Someone like me’?”
“Nuclear terrorists, Mr. Kelley. And one of our modern war heroes as well. How very sad.”
“What!?”
Nathan’s spluttering denials and protestations went unacknowledged. They dragged him from the hood of his car and walked him into the back of one of the tactical trucks. In a few more minutes, the access road had been cleared, and their convoy moved along the highway with both trucks, the three sedans, and Nathan’s BMW. They were gone before the first regular police arrived with an ambulance to check over the frazzled occupants of the old minivan.
In the well-appointed back seat of the truck, Nathan sat with two dour-faced agent/soldiers in black utilities. The female agent sat across from him on a rear-facing bench seat. They drove in silence for several miles until Nathan could stand it no longer, exactly as they had intended. “I’m not a terrorist, nuclear or otherwise.”
“That remains to be seen. I am Special Agent Stanton, Homeland Security. We’re acting on credible intelligence received concerning you and your employer’s recent activities.”
“Mr. Lee isn’t a terrorist either.”
“Which I am sure will be either confirmed or not in the very near future, but everything depends upon your cooperation. Do we have it?”
“You have it! Absolutely. Nothing would make me happier than to help you, especially given your kind and gracious offer to chauffeur our meeting.”
“You can lose the sarcasm, Mr. Kelley. Sarcasm ends this interview and gets you safely behind lock and key as an accessory in the illegal trafficking and use of nuclear materials.”
Nathan glared. “Belaying sarcasm, aye, ma’am.”
She glared back at him for several more miles in silence. Nathan used the opportunity to try to assess his situation. They had not arrested him yet. In fact, they had not even bound him, with the obvious exception of the two hulking guards on either side. That probably meant that though they suspected him of something, they did not have
Nathan cursed and slammed on the brakes, bringing the coupe to a screeching sideways stop. The three sedans arrived and also came to screaming halts, arrayed behind him to block any escape he might still be considering. There were guns everywhere, all pointed at him, and he still had no idea what this was all about.
A severe looking woman in a dark gray suit emerged from the back seat of one of the first sedans. She held up an ID, though it was impossible for Nathan to read from this distance. “Mr. Kelley, this is the Department of Homeland Security. Step out of the vehicle and come with us. We have some questions for you.”
He carefully opened the door and climbed out of the low-slung car, hands held high. No sooner was he out than there were three agents in black utilities on him, his arms held painfully against his back, his face and chest pressed hard against the hood of the car. They frisked him with brutal efficiency while others began rifling through the car and cracking the encryption on his suite. He heard the rapid clipping of heels on asphalt and the female agent, undoubtedly the leader of this merry band, was behind him, whispering in his ear. “Why were you running from us, Mr. Kelley?”
Nathan fought a losing battle to keep the pain out of his voice. “Why were you chasing me? I didn’t know who you people were until your trucks showed up! You didn’t exactly go out of your way to introduce yourselves.”
“Mr. Kelley, we often find introducing ourselves to someone like you merely an invitation to bullets or the destruction of evidence. My sincerest apologies for any discomfiture you may have experienced, but you’ll have to excuse us for learning from our bloody past.”
A fresh jab from the man holding his arms elicited a long groan. Nathan gritted his teeth to cut it off and said, “What do you mean, ‘Someone like me’?”
“Nuclear terrorists, Mr. Kelley. And one of our modern war heroes as well. How very sad.”
“What!?”
Nathan’s spluttering denials and protestations went unacknowledged. They dragged him from the hood of his car and walked him into the back of one of the tactical trucks. In a few more minutes, the access road had been cleared, and their convoy moved along the highway with both trucks, the three sedans, and Nathan’s BMW. They were gone before the first regular police arrived with an ambulance to check over the frazzled occupants of the old minivan.
In the well-appointed back seat of the truck, Nathan sat with two dour-faced agent/soldiers in black utilities. The female agent sat across from him on a rear-facing bench seat. They drove in silence for several miles until Nathan could stand it no longer, exactly as they had intended. “I’m not a terrorist, nuclear or otherwise.”
“That remains to be seen. I am Special Agent Stanton, Homeland Security. We’re acting on credible intelligence received concerning you and your employer’s recent activities.”
“Mr. Lee isn’t a terrorist either.”
“Which I am sure will be either confirmed or not in the very near future, but everything depends upon your cooperation. Do we have it?”
“You have it! Absolutely. Nothing would make me happier than to help you, especially given your kind and gracious offer to chauffeur our meeting.”
“You can lose the sarcasm, Mr. Kelley. Sarcasm ends this interview and gets you safely behind lock and key as an accessory in the illegal trafficking and use of nuclear materials.”
Nathan glared. “Belaying sarcasm, aye, ma’am.”
She glared back at him for several more miles in silence. Nathan used the opportunity to try to assess his situation. They had not arrested him yet. In fact, they had not even bound him, with the obvious exception of the two hulking guards on either side. That probably meant that though they suspected him of something, they did not have
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