Lady Justice and the Company

Maury Berthon

Description

CIA officer and genius Stan Woods is charged with the murder of his wife, but proving his innocence could be difficult as authorities are bogged down by secrets and lies.

Stanley Michael Woods is a gifted spy for the Central Intelligence Agency. Authorities are shocked when Stan’s beautiful wife is murdered. Although the evidence doesn’t add up, Stan is arrested for her death. Now, the Agency must put together a skilled legal team to save their man.

There are so many unanswered questions. If Stan used a hammer to murder his wife, why wasn’t he covered in blood? And, why did Stan’s young daughter flee the scene instead of staying with her father? Stan could be guilty, but there is another more ominous option: that Foreign Intelligence Officers murdered Stan’s wife in an attempt to destroy him.

In Maury Berthon’s latest thriller, go behind the walls of the CIA, FBI, and Chinese Intelligence to witness justice being sought on behalf of a talented spy. Stan’s innocence might be hard to prove, though, what with all the lies, intrigue, and political twists of high stakes espionage.

Sujets

• Thrillers
• Agencia Central de Inteligencia
• Fiction
• Central Intelligence Agency

Informations

• Publié par: Archway Publishing
• Date de parution: 04 mai 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781665738545
• Langue: English

Extrait

Lady Justice AND THE COMPANY
MAURY BERTHON


Copyright © 2023 Maury Berthon.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
 
 
Archway Publishing
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.archwaypublishing.com
844-669-3957
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
ISBN: 978-1-6657-3853-8 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6657-3854-5 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023902373
 
 
 
Archway Publishing rev. date: 08/18/2023
CONTENTS
Prologue
 
Chapter 1A Good Deed in the Park
Chapter 2Trouble for a Spy
Chapter 3Elusive Motive
Chapter 4Secret Lawyer
Chapter 5Murder Discussion
Chapter 6An Innocent Chat
Chapter 7Not Quite a Father
Chapter 8The Bear Stirs
Chapter 9Prep
Chapter 10Confused Loyalties
Chapter 11Similar Purposes
Chapter 12Ancestral Home
Chapter 13Somebody Did It
Chapter 14What Was Our Thinking Here
Chapter 15The Lady Takes a Peek
Chapter 16Uncomfortable Search
Chapter 17Square One
Chapter 18Back To Court
Chapter 19Set Back for the Dragon
Chapter 20Getting a Last Name
Chapter 21Left Field Twice
Chapter 22Starting Over
Chapter 23A Lot Happening
Chapter 24A Father’s Plea
Chapter 25Street Entertainment
Chapter 26Old Friends Call
Chapter 27Knocking Things Around
Chapter 28Justice Delayed
Chapter 29Past Relationships
Chapter 30Talk Over Cakes
Chapter 31The Past Comes Present
 
Epilogue

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
TO THOSE WHO JUDGE SLOWLY

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
DO NOT RESENT GROWING OLD, MANY DO NOT HAVE THE PRIVILEGE
 
OLD IRISH PROVERB
PROLOGUE
Dag Nguyen, a homicide detective with the Washington, D.C. Metropolitan Police, glanced at and then read from his scribbled notes.
“The front door was open, which he thought was strange. He walked in and heard music playing in the den. The house smelled of garlic from last night’s supper of Cuban food. He heard something upstairs and started up to take a look. That’s all he remembers.”
The captain from the Homicide Unit looked up from pouring a cup of coffee to make eye contact with Nguyen.
“That’s his statement?”
“So far.”
“Is he a suspect?”
“You tell me. His nine-year old daughter comes home and finds him sitting on the stairs. He asks her where her mom is. Then the girl goes upstairs and finds her mom dead in her parents’ bedroom. She starts screaming and somehow manages to call 911 on her cell. Then she runs right past her dad and goes to a neighbor’s house.”
“What is the ME saying?”
“Preliminary cause of death is blunt force trauma to the head. She said she’ll give us more later this evening.”
“Do we have a weapon?”
“A hammer in the sink of the master bathroom looks good for it.”
“Any blood on him?”
“Not that we can see.”
“Crap. Well, advise him and get his clothes off. I have never seen a hammer job where there was not blood somewhere on the killer. Where is the daughter?”
“She is downstairs with the neighbor.”
“Any other kids?”
“Nope. Only child.”
“Okay. Get her statement as soon as you can. Has the neighbor been cleared?”
“Yeah. She is a teacher and we put her at the school all day.”
“Alright. Let her sit in. In fact, see if we can talk to the girl at the neighbor’s house. A homicide office is no place for a nine-year-old.”
The captain, scratching his balding head, thought for a moment.
“Something strange here, nine-year-old girl finds her mom dead and runs to a neighbor instead of her dad. We’ll need to explore their relationship and see what that’s all about.”
ONE
A GOOD DEED IN THE PARK
T he Cooper’s hawk, one of seven species of hawks found in Virginia, circled lazily over the Manassas National Battlefield Park, looking for his dinner. Below, he saw small prey scurrying along on the ground, the same ground where in 1861, and again in 1862, thousands of young men died—some fighting to right a wrong and others fighting to protect a wrong—most knew little about.
At this time, the hawk had no intention of plunging down to grab a mouse in his talons because of much larger prey he observed in a clearing between two large sets of trees, prey his instincts told him to avoid. Like the smaller prey, they too were scurrying around.
Crying hysterically, the young woman cried out.
“Amanda, where are you?”
No answer came from the trees.
This time the young woman cried out to a man ahead of her.
“Charlie, she was just here. Where could she have gone?”
The man, not answering the woman, called out.
“Amanda, please come to Daddy.”
This plea was only answered by the wind blowing through the park.
The woman, in a panicked run, sprinted past the man, screaming.
“Amanda! Amanda!”
As she rounded a sharp turn on the trail, she saw an older gentleman walking toward her holding the hand of a small child.
The woman yelled the two names almost simultaneously.
“Amanda! Charlie, I found her!”
The little girl let go of the gentleman’s hand and held up some wildflowers in her other hand.
“Look, Mommy, aren’t they pretty?”
The gentleman smiled, “I found her just a bit ahead.”
The woman, realizing the man spoke with an accent, picked up the little girl.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you so much.”
The gentleman continued to smile and patted the child on the head.
“I suspect she was just trying to surprise you with the flowers.”
Arriving, the man took the child from the woman and scolded her.
“Amanda, don’t ever scare Mommy and Daddy that way again.”
Amanda looked up at her daddy with tears in her eyes and spoke softly.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I was just picking flowers and got lost.”
The woman, with tears rolling down her face, looked at the gentleman.
“Please tell us your name.”
Already walking away, the gentleman looked back.
“My name is Peter. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day in the park.”
 
Continuing to walk, the gentleman came to the stone bridge over a small creek he had been looking for. Crossing the bridge, the gentleman stepped to his right and went down a small embankment toward the slow-moving water. Looking under the bridge, he searched for the stone described to him earlier. Choosing the stone that fit the description, he put his hand on it and confirmed it was loose from the other stones around it. Picking it up he saw the plastic bag under it, which was smaller than he expected. Inside the bag was a canister consistent with the size of a prescription bottle. Opening it he took out a rolled-up piece of paper that was in the bottle, and without looking at it, stuck it into his pocket. He returned the bottle to the plastic bag and placed the bag where he had found it and securely placed the stone back over it. He climbed up the embankment and retraced his steps across the bridge wondering if he would run into the family again.
Normally on such an errand, the gentleman would be looking around as he walked, making sure he was not being watched or followed. Today he did not have that concern. The people who might be watching him were the ones who gave him the directions to the bridge and what to look for upon his arrival there.
Without seeing the family, the gentleman arrived back at the Lincoln Continental he had rented earlier that day. Getting in, he placed a call to a Washington number.
Howard Smyth answered as he sat in his office watching traffic pass on Massachusetts Avenue, which ran in front of the British Embassy in Washington. Listed as the Cultural Affairs Officer at the embassy, Smyth was, in reality, the highest-ranking member of MI6, British Intelligence.
“Peter, old boy, how was the park?”
“I found it beautiful. What a job they do keeping everything so nice. I must admit I am jealous. I’m afraid in Russia the groundskeepers do not do so well. Not that they don’t try, but funding is a constant issue. Another thing that caught my eye were the numerous historical markers. One could spend days in the park trying to read them all.”
Smyth found this chattiness from Peter unusual.
“No problem finding the package?”
“Not at all. Our friends gave me excellent directions.”
“Did you see any opposition around?”
“To be honest, I was somewhat careless looking for them. Perhaps it is my age.”
Smyth laughed at this response.
“Peter, don’t be ridiculous. You will be looking around for threats as you are lowered into your grave.”
 
While the gentleman talked with his old friend, a man and a woman, sitting in a car across the lot from his Lincoln, were watching him. The man was taking pictures w