Page 67 of Exit Strategy
Knowing how things went down with the captain and his crew, they could have done it easily, but with a staggering body count.
I had heard about what happened in France and had been there when they went in after Kaijin and her inner circle.
Staying out of that had likely been the best decision of my life.
There was a lot of formality, hand shaking, polite introductions, all including full rank and title. It felt weird being addressed completely as Staff Sergeant Owen Worthington, former Royal Marines, 9thCommando Brigade. That felt like another person, some guy I had met once, and had a laugh that we had the same name. SSgt Worthington should probably still be in the Afghan highlands, or dealing with pirates out of Somalia, not standing here in this office.
Marion Tate was not an imposing woman in person – she was short and thin, and I could see the angular features that were not quite as important to the New Eden cult as say, being underage. She had probably been incredible before she gave herself a near-military haircut and traded her makeup and dress for a power suit and the posture of a BMW salesman.
“Calanthe Rex, I never imagined that I would have the honor. We have a lot to talk about,” Tate said, extending her hand to Callie. They shook hands but it seemed awkward and almost strange.
“We do,” Callie said, hesitantly.
“The first thing is Mrs. Rex’s security and what Fallout can do to help us keep her safe,” Kyle said.
“What sort of protection do you think we have to offer, Mister…?”
“Lachlan. What sort of threat does New Eden pose to Mrs. Rex and her associates?” he asked. He was as sharp as a knife, and just as fast.
“Physically, very little. New Eden is an unofficial church, an NGO, and some sections are registered charity organizations. If you’re expecting some sort of armed-paramilitary response to Calanthe’s defection, you might have watched too many action movies,” she said with a soft condescension.
“It took a Royal Marine and a hell of a bug-out plan to rescue her from New Eden, and I’m sure in our correspondence, we made it known that Worthington was the New Eden head of security?” he asked, like an armor-piercing round.
“Yes, your emails did mention that,” Tate said.
“We need to take this very seriously,” I said, brushing my useless hands against the front of my borrowed jacket. “Arik’s personal detail for filming and property security was nearly seventy men, and that’s not taking into account the full resources of New Eden itself, which are not inconsiderable. They have helicopters, vehicles, and there are Class-three contractors who are familiar with the organization and involved in their overseas operations. In Beverly Hills, a five-foot stone wall and a few cameras will keep almost everyone out, but you set up a green center in South Africa, or Pakistan, it has a paramilitary force on par with a private military contractor.”
“I wasn’t aware,” Tate said, suddenly looking more serious.
“I expect some sort of response,” Kyle said. “This is a personal strike against New Eden and its leadership. With what Calanthe knows, this will be just shy of a literal assassination.”
“While I would like to see the organization brought down, I am not going to condone violence or murder,” Tate said firmly. Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, a gesture of frustration that I could easily recognize, not knowing him more than in a cursory fashion.
“While few things would bring me more pleasure than violence and murder being heaped on people who are committing such glaring and obvious crimes, I will agree with you. Callie’s evidence should be sufficient to severely harm Arik Rex’s career, as well as implicate several key members of the organization being complicit with human sex trafficking and grooming minors for prostitution. There should be lots of jail time handed out, organizations raided and broken down by the Justice department, and maybe even some choice heavily armed raids from the FBI and other agencies better known by their initials than their actual names,” Kyle said. His presence seemed to fill the room as he approached Tate and I could detect an almost physical change in her. Her posture changed, her facial expression, everything.
“I-I see,” she said. “We have this building here, and there are Fallout halfway houses in several major cities, where we,” she swallowed hard, “take care of women who’ve managed to get out of New Eden.”
“Calanthe is not a rank-and-file member,” I said, thinking to reinforce Lachlan.
“I was a First Among First Daughters,” Callie said. Her voice was as soft as Kyle was intense. “Before I was sold to Arik, I was a teen goodwill ambassador to the United Nations, and had audiences with the governor of California, the state representatives and one of the senior state senators. My husband is one of the highest-grossing movie stars of the last decade, and when he married me, I was not of legal age by any stretch.”
“Oh shit,” Tate said.
“We felt it prudent to leave some of the details out of the written documents. I don’t know how good your cyber security is,” Kyle said.
“So, you want us to provide protection?” Tate asked.
“No, protection we can handle on our own,” Kyle said. “We’re here to deliver a deposition, a notarized confession and condemnation of New Eden, and name the people inside it, and their transgressions.”
“So, I guess I need to call the lawyers, get a notary and scare up some recording equipment so that we have this properly documented and certified,” Tate said. I nodded, and Sadie put an arm around Callie and whispered something in her ear. She nodded her head and seemed to stiffen. She reminded me of some of the women I had met in Afghanistan. You could see their eyes, calm and cool, and completely unmoved by emotion. They would cry and lament later, but in the moment, they would pull survivors of airstrikes or cruise missile hits from the rubble, dust off clothing and smooth down hair, and lead the children and the wounded away.
I learned that they had lost terrible things during the decades of war, their own friends and family, and digging a stranger from the rubble, and making sure they were okay was nothing compared to what they had lost, and the strength they had found in their own pain. I felt, at times, ashamed of this. That country was nothing to me, nothing to my country, but the war seemed to have a life of its own.
The most sobering thing was that for me, I knew men who had fought in the first part of the war, watching as their sons enlisted and ended up going to the exact same places, they had been years before. Nothing was changing.
I let out my breath.
“I need a smoke,” I managed before standing. Tate nodded and gestured. One of her assistants showed me to the smoking lounge, aka a balcony off the fifth floor, overlooking K Street. I knew what was going to happen. They were going to drag a camera and a few other people into Tate’s office, and then they were basically going to debrief Callie, and she was going to have to go into the details. The lurid details.
