Trust No One

Prologue-2

Washington, D.C.

May 2005

“WE’VE GOT A CALL FOR Howard Parker, sir, is he still with you?” the switchboard operator asked.

“Yes, he is,” said Jake Dugan, assistant to the Secretary of Defense. “Put it through.”

Howard Parker reached for the phone set. “Parker,” he said curtly. “What? Hold on a bit.”

He gestured toward the speakerphone. “You’re going to want to hear this, too,” Parker said. “Okay, Agent Barantoski, start again.”

“Yes, sir. It seems one of the DEA agents heard some rumors about drug activity in a certain part of his region and borrowed a platoon of Marines to quarter, search and report. One fire team stumbled upon our perimeter men this morning. Two Marines were trapped on the northeast corner, but two others were able to penetrate the perimeter after a shoot-out with two men on the northwest corner. The two Marines proceeded into the facility. The furnace exploded, followed by the generator.”

Agent Barantoski paused for breath. “Go on,” Parker said. Dugan looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“One of the Marines trapped by our men was able to get a call out for backup. At that point we were alerted to the situation and were able to be among those who responded. At the facility, we found a Marine corporal in charge; he had the wetba... illegal workers sitting alongside the house with their hands on their heads. Four of our men were under guard by two other Marines. The fourth Marine was resting with a leg injury.”

Parker said with deceptive mildness, “And the other eight of our men?”

The sound of the agent swallowing was clearly audible. “Four are dead, sir. Two were able to load the jeep with incriminating evidence and get out; they’ve reported in. The whereabouts of the other two is unknown at this time.”

“I see.”

Agent Barantoski blurted out, “Sir, you’ve got to get back here A-SAP and take over damage control. We’ve got people who aren’t in the know making decisions, and all hell is breaking loose.”

“I’m on my way, Agent Barantoski,” Parker said. “Have someone waiting for me at the airport. Slow things down as much as you can. And get those Marines back on base!”

“Yes, sir!”

Dugan burst out laughing, not the least intimidated by Parker’s glare. “Four Marines, hey? Makes you proud of the old unit, doesn’t?”

“It wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t had to be back here in D.C. politicking,” Parker grumbled.

Dugan sobered. “If you hadn’t been back here politicking, the new Secretary would have pulled your plug and then where would your operation be?”

Parker rolled his eyes but didn’t disagree. “It’s a hell of a thing anyway, lobbying for a project selling drugs.”

“It keeps an information pipeline open that we all need,” Dugan said.

“I know.” Parker was silent for a moment, then shook his head and sighed. “Pointless to argue about it. We’ve got the operation going; it’s my job to see it successful.”

“Just out of curiosity, how many people did we have on site?” Dugan asked.

“Four CIA agents, eight contracts, and apparently four illegal workers,” Parker said sourly. “Scramble me a jet, Jake, and then you get to go tell the Secretary that his discreet little intelligence operation just got a little less discreet.”

Dugan waved him on, but as Parker closed the door behind him, he could hear Dugan humming “From the halls of Montezuma....”

Parker opened the door back up. “And ship those Marines to the Gulf or wherever they might likely get blown to bits, will you?”