Bremen infiltrated the Silverton jail as a prisoner and was soon on the trail that took the investigation through the Iowa governor’s house, to a deputy undersecretary in the Department of Homeland Security.
Troy continued reading the mature readers-only article, which detailed his saga through his impending surgery. At the end of the article was a link that offered more in-depth information.
He hit the enter key after typing in the link. A flashing red warning notice came up advising a rating of NC-17, material for ages eighteen and over.
A fog enveloped him as he checked the age box and hit enter. The article came up intermixed with video and sound featuring movies of him shot at the jail, including moments he didn’t realize were photographed, along with commentary on him working out in the prison yard. “He’s born to fuck,” one guard said.
Another said, “He’s too valuable; keep your hands off him.”
Troy’s breathing increased as the first movie of him with the female prisoner, Kalina, occupied the screen. As it played, he vomited into his trash can, much like he did when returned to his cell the night it happened.
* * *
Caleb Paulsen came runninginto Julian’s office. “Boss?”
Martin noted the fright on Caleb’s face. “What did you find?”
His hands shook. “Boss, it's worse than we imagined.”
Inside the office, Caleb handed Martin a copy of the tabloid magazineThe Real Business. The entire executive staff read the tabloid regularly after being named stakeholders in Chase Security International, and when they published a business-threatening false story that almost prevented the IPO for the company to grow.
Martin scanned the article, passing it to Kip, who typed the link into his laptop and hit return. He clicked on the warning link, lined up the cursor and hit return once more. As the video began to play, his knees gave out. It was a grainy clip involving Troy and a female prisoner.
Kip checked the directory. “There are a total of eleven clips, including one that’s seventy-three minutes long.”
“I’ll call Ian. Caleb, start digging. I want to know the source,” Martin ordered.
Blake Minor flew in the door. “Boss, did you see it?”
“Get on the phone. Call Eric Seton and Mac Novak. Call Wes Crockett and Brandon Finch at the Center for Training. Christie,” Kip yelled.
The secretary came running. “Mr. Brennan, what do you need?”
“Call DC. Have them make arrangements to get Wes Crockett on a jet here as soon as possible.” Kip ran a heavy hand through his hair.
Martin picked up the receiver of his phone and dialed a number committed to memory. “Ian, have you seen the video?”
“Yeah. The videos were sent to all the cable news outlets. We've been receiving calls for confirmation. Our legal bureau is trying its best to take the website down. But, unfortunately, the genie is out of the bottle. Photographs from the videos are already popping up on the internet. For the first time, I don't know what to do. I have one more briefing with legal, and then I'm hopping on a plane. Where is Troy?”
“We discharged North. He’s taking her, along with Medical, to his new house for her to rest. Owen was able to beat the schedule. I'm hoping to God they haven't hooked up the cable. Right now, he should be in a car with Winslow, Fitz, General North and Gwen. Holland is in a follow car with a full med kit. Do I drive over there and break it to him? Do I let him enjoy the afternoon?” Martin gulped.
“Damn, that isn't going to work. He knows about the 1100 hours deadline. He's going to start nosing around. His work instincts are heightened,” Martin bemoaned.
“I don't know, I'm afraid we're going to lose him on this. And, regardless, what happens with the tabloids and the internet, the San Diego staff will know; hell, the staff of the entire company will know. Anyone with access to the internet will know. He’ll need to make a statement,” Ian worried. “The release of his story is one of his biggest fears.
“Let Julian know. He’s on his paternity leave, but he won’t forgive us if we don’t tell him. Take Seton and Novak with you. Call Brandon Finch and get his opinion. Martin, take Kip with you too. I hate to dump this on your shoulders, but I would rather it come from one of us than letting him see it on tabloid TV. I'll see you in about six hours. I have the SAT phone. Call me on the plane as soon as you tell him.”
Eric and Mac came in through the open door. “What's going on? Caleb said you needed to see us immediately,” Eric asked.
Kip couldn’t bear to say a word. He handed them the magazine, dropped the large screen in the office, and pressed play. Thirty seconds into the video, Novak yelled, “Turn it off.”
“I just got off the phone with Ian. He's on his way. I'm hoping there's no cable in the house, but we need to get out there and tell him. I'll try to get ahold of Trask and Holland on another frequency to give them a heads up,” Martin said.
Trask flew into the office, out of breath. “He hit the emergency lockdown. He’s in his office alone—with his gun.”
“Trask, we need to tell you something,” Martin said grimly.
* * *
