by David Archer
They picked up their weapons and moved quietly through the house, surprised to find no kind of security inside. The ground floor was empty, so they moved carefully up the stairs to the second floor. Broussard was asleep in the third bedroom they checked.
Noah moved stealthily to the bed and quickly showed his hand over Broussard’s mouth. The man woke instantly, and his eyes went wide. Noah put a finger to his own lips to warn Broussard to be quiet and the man nodded his understanding.
“Do not lie to me,” Noah said, reverting to his Adrian impersonation. “Is there anyone else in the house?”
Broussard shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “I live alone.” The look on his face suggested that he might be considering that the gravest error of his life at that moment.
“You set me up to be killed, Monsieur Broussard,” he said. “This is not the way business associates should treat one another, is it?”
Broussard opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it. A tear leaked out of one eye as he stared up at Noah. After a moment, he opened his mouth again. “We are confused,” he said at last. “There is another who has contacted us, claiming that he is Adrian. He says you are an imposter, an agent sent to learn who we are so that we may be arrested.”
“And so you tried to have me killed? Did you not realize that I would come for you after such an attempt?”
Broussard licked his lips as he looked into Noah’s eyes. “As I say, we are confused. It was my sincere hope that the survivor of the encounter would be the one we truly wish to deal with. It seems that you may be the real Adrian, after all.”
Noah stared at him for a moment. When he spoke, it was without Adrian’s accent and affectations. “When we met the other day, Broussard, you told me how you had been forced into this position. Was that true?”
Broussard nodded his head. “It is true,” he said, “every word of it.”
Noah nodded. “I had thought it was,” he said. “Mr. Broussard, I was not sent to arrest you, not any of you. My orders are to identify the leadership of IAR and kill them. If things had gone as I expected the other night, you and the Council would already be dead, but there was a monkey wrench thrown into my plans when Deanna had to call your Executive Director. In order to complete my mission, I have to find him, as well.” He looked down at Broussard, who now had tears flowing freely from both eyes. “Mr. Broussard, I can offer you one chance to save your life. Understand that it will mean I own you, and that you will from now on do whatever I tell you to do. The only thing different about your life will be that I am not the same as your current master. I, or someone who speaks for me, will come to you when we need information that you can provide, or when we need your help to accomplish a mission of our own. We will never, however, ask you to participate in terrorism. That’s what we are out to stop. Are you interested in this offer?”
Broussard hesitated for a moment, then nodded his head, not trusting himself to speak.
“Very good. When we were in the meeting the other night, one of the other members looked at Deanna and asked her if she would like to make the call to the director. From that, I gather she is not the only one who knows how to reach him?”
“That is correct,” Broussard said. “Each of us has a number by which we can reach him, but we can use each number only once. After that, we are to be given a new one. I have never used mine, but I was given one in case I need it.”
“Give it to me.” Noah picked up a pad and pen that lay on Broussard’s nightstand and passed it to him. The old man scribbled the number down and handed it back.
Noah looked closely at him. “Do you know who he is?”
The old man shook his head. “No. I was never told, and I have never asked. Knowledge like that is too dangerous for a man in my position.”
“I can understand that,” Noah said. He stared at Broussard for a long moment, and then asked, “Do we have an arrangement, Mr. Broussard?”
“We do,” Broussard said.
“Adrian may not be dead,” Noah said. “We wounded him tonight but I don’t know how badly. If he contacts you again, do not tell him about my visit or what we discussed. If you can find out where he’s at or how I can track him down, let me know. Use the number I called you from earlier today, I’ll keep it on for you.” He rose from the bed and looked down at Broussard once more. “And don’t double cross me. You won’t believe how cruel I can be if I’m double crossed.”
He turned and motioned for Moose to follow as he left the room. They went out the same way they’d come in, through the window, and Moose retrieved his knife after they closed it behind them.
“Do you trust him?” Moose asked.
“Strangely enough, I do,” Noah said. “He didn’t want to be in bed with these people, and we’ve just offered him a way out. If I can kill them all, then he’s in the clear, and we’ve just gained a new intelligence asset.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Sarah was relieved when they came back so quickly, but she was worried when Noah told her about the deal he’d made.
“We’ve got what is probably a number Neil can locate,” Noah said, “and that old man never wanted to be any part of IAR in the first place. He can be an asset to both us and the UK, but not if he’s dead. I think I made the right call.”
“You didn’t see the old guy, Sarah,” Moose said. “He was definitely relieved at the chance to get out and stay alive. I’m with Noah on this one.”
She clamped her mouth shut and didn’t say anything more.
Getting back to the house took almost an hour and a half, since they had to go so much farther across the city. It was close to three by the time they got there, and Sarah parked the truck just outside the garage, but they went through it to get to the kitchen entrance.
Moose was in the lead and pushed the door open, but it hit something. He tried to see what was blocking it but couldn’t, so he called out, “Neil? Hey, Neil?”
There was no answer. Noah tapped Moose on the shoulder and motioned for him to wait there, then jogged out and around to the front door. They hadn’t locked it after moving in, and it was still unlocked, so Noah took out his Glock and made his way quietly inside.
The lights were out in the front of the house, but there was one burning in the kitchen that he could see. He moved as stealthily as possible until he could look into the kitchen and then saw Neil lying on the floor with his head blocking the other door.
Noah looked down the hall toward the room where Iverson had been kept and made his way toward it. The door was ajar, so he used his toe to push it open and then leveled his gun at the bed. Iverson was gone, of course, and Noah made a quick search of the rest of the rooms before going back to the kitchen.
Neil’s head seemed to be bleeding profusely, so Noah gently lifted him away from the door. The bleeding had actually stopped at some point, but the boy was breathing.
“Come on in,” Noah called. “Neil’s been hurt.”
Moose and Sarah rushed in, and Sarah demanded Moose put him up on the table while she got clean washcloths. She wiped away the blood, and let out a squeal of relief when Neil began to groan.
A few moments later, Neil was sitting up in a chair at the table, drinking a cup of instant coffee Sarah had found and made for him while she looked at the gash on the side of his head. He dug into her purse and came out with a tube of antiseptic cream and began smearing it into the wound.
“Ooowww,” Neil yelled. “Damn, that stuff burns!”
“Shut up,” Sarah said. “You really need some stitches in this, but at least I can get it cleaned out so you won’t die of an infection. You’re gonna have a dickens of a scar, but at least it’ll be mostly under your hair.”
“Not if you keep pulling it all out—Ooowww!” He yanked away from her and then looked up at Noah while holding the spot with one hand.
“I’m sorry, Boss, I blew it,” he said. “I got so into working the drone that I forgot to keep checking on him. He got loose, somehow, and by the
time I realized it, he had already split my skull open.”
“Be glad,” Moose said. “If he’d gotten hold of your gun, I think there’s a good chance he might have shot you.”
“But I messed up. I let him get away, and now he’s got my machine gun, all because I had some wild idea about using cell phones to control the drone….”
“Stop it,” Noah said. “Your wild idea probably saved both of our lives tonight, mine and Moose’s. As for Iverson, we’ll let the British deal with him. He’s not our priority, the mission is.” He took out his phone and dialed Catherine Potts.
She answered sleepily. “Hello?”
“Catherine, it’s Alex Colson. I’m sorry to bother you at this time of night, but I’ve got a bit of information your friends at MI6 need to know about.” He quickly explained about Iverson and his illicit guns and explosives business. She agreed to contact the appropriate department and claim she got it from an anonymous source. He thanked her and ended the call.
He pulled the slip of paper he’d gotten from Broussard out of his pocket and passed it to Neil. “I’m pretty sure that’s the number to a satellite phone held by the Executive Director. Can you get a location on it?”
“Noah!” Sarah said. “Give him a break, he just got his head knocked half off.”
“No, no, it’s okay,” Neil said. “Yeah, I can track it down. Let me get to my…” He had started to rise, but suddenly sank back into his chair. “Hey, Moose? Would you drag my computer over here, please?”
Moose got up and got the laptop, and set it in front of Neil. The boy picked up the slip of paper and looked at it, then pulled up the program he had used before. He entered the number and set the machines to scanning for the satellite phone.
Only a moment passed before it beeped, and then a map appeared. A marker showed the location of the phone, somewhere in the middle of Damascus. “That’s where the phone is at this moment,” Neil said. “I can set this to keep track of it when it moves, if you want.”
Noah nodded. “Yes, do that. Now tell me if Deanna and James are still at her building.”
Neil turned back to the computer and began working again. After a minute, he grinned, but the grin faded fast when it pulled on the skin to one side. “Yeah, they’re still there. At least those two phones are.”
Noah took out his phone and dialed a number, then held it to his ear. “Switchboard,” said a feminine voice.
“This is Camelot,” Noah said. “I need operations.”
“One moment.” There was silence for a few seconds, and then a male voice came on the line. “Camelot? What can I do for you, boy?”
Noah’s eyebrows raised a quarter-inch. “Doctor Parker? I didn’t expect you to be on duty, sir.”
“We’re still a bit shorthanded, so I get drafted now and then. Tonight I get the privilege of sitting up so you youngsters can talk to me when you have a problem. What’s on your mind?”
“Sir, I wonder if we have any assets in Syria at the moment. I have a location in Damascus I need to check out. I need to get the identity of someone there.”
“Damascus? Hang on,” Parker said, and then there was silence again. It lasted almost three minutes. “Okay, give me the address. I’ve got hold of someone who can find out who we’re dealing with.”
Noah read it off to him. Parker put him on hold again, but was back in less than five minutes.
“That’s a house, it belongs to Saleh Hussein Abdul. According to CIA, Abdul was occasionally rumored to have been an associate of bin Laden. No concrete evidence ever came to light, but the rumors have persisted for some time. What’s the significance?”
“The IAR is run by an Executive Council that answers to one man, someone they call their Executive Director. Each member of the Council has a special phone number they can use to contact the director, and I’ve gotten hold of one of them. The number goes to a sat phone that is located at that address. That makes Mr. Abdul the number one candidate for director of IAR.”
“I agree, and it would make sense considering the rumors we just discussed. IAR is primarily a funding organization, arranging and financing terrorism throughout most of Europe. If he and bin Laden were working together at any time in the past, he probably had enough contacts to continue once bin Laden was dead. Hold another moment.”
This time the hold lasted almost 10 minutes. When he came back, Parker sounded as close to excited as Noah had ever heard him. “Camelot, it turns out that team Hercules is currently in Syria, not more than an hour from Damascus. I’m going to wake Allison and ask her to sign off on sending Hercules in to terminate him immediately. What’s the situation on your end?”
“The other members of the Council are still here in London, where I can get to them. If Hercules can handle Abdul, I’m going to go ahead and take them out immediately.”
“Go ahead. There’s no doubt in my mind Allison will agree to letting Hercules handle Abdul. Between the two strikes, we should be able to put this mission to bed.”
The line went dead and Noah turned to Moose. “Let’s get going,” he said. “We’re taking the Council out tonight, before they have a chance to let anyone know what’s happening. Neil, I need you to go back into the building’s security system and kill the cameras for a couple of hours. Can you do that?”
Neil started to nod, but winced. “Yeah, no problem,” he said. “I’ll have it done before you get there.”
Sarah reached over and picked up her purse, but Noah stopped her. “You’re staying here with Neil. I can drive myself for this one, but he’s still hurt. I don’t want him here alone if Iverson decides to come back. Keep your gun where you can reach it, okay?”
Sarah’s eyes took on the look of a pair of glowing coals. “If he shows up here, he’s dead,” she said.
Noah nodded once. “I’m counting on it.” He held out a hand and Sarah dropped the keys into it, and then he and Moose headed out through the kitchen door. They went through the garage and got into the truck, and Noah pointed it toward the Florentine Global building.
The same attendant was on duty in the parking garage when they arrived, but he was engrossed in something on his phone. Noah drove past the booth and turned the next corner, then parked on the side of the street. He and Moose walked nonchalantly back toward the garage and were able to slip in without being noticed, just as Moose had done before.
“If this is what they call security in England,” Moose said as they rode the elevator up to the sixth floor, “then I want to come back and go into competition with them. Guy like me could make a fortune here.”
“Yeah,” Noah said, “but you’d get bored.”
As the elevator rose, each of them withdrew his pistol from its hidden holster and twisted on a silencer. As soon as the doors opened they moved out, Noah going high while Moose went low, guns ready. There was no one in the hallway, so they went to the far end first.
“As far as we know,” Noah said softly, “they only have two bodyguards. When I was watching the video with Neil from their security cameras, both of them went into this room.” He indicated a door that was just in front of them.
Moose shrugged. “Easy enough,” he said. He reached up and knocked on the door, and a moment later they could hear someone moving around inside. The peephole in the door lit up as the lights inside were turned on, but then it went dark a second later as someone looked through it.
Moose was standing there grinning, and after a couple of seconds they heard the safety chain being removed and then the door opened. A large, dark-haired man with a mustache looked out at them. “Help you with somethin’?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Moose said, and then he slammed his weight into the door. The man was thrown back and landed on his butt, but he was trying to bring a pistol of his own up as he fell. Moose shot him between the eyes, while Noah took aim at his partner, who was trying to grab a pistol out of the holster that was hanging on the back of the chair. Noah squeezed his trigger once, and the man fell to the floor
with a third eye.
“We probably could’ve done that a little quieter,” Noah said.
Moose shrugged. “We gotta get their attention somehow, right?”
They moved to the next door down and Moose simply kicked it in. Noah stepped inside to find François struggling up from his bed, jerked awake by the crashing of the door. A single shot through his temple put an end to his struggles. Noah spun and stepped back out into the hall, where Moose was already kicking in the next door.
Roberto was in this one, and was already out of bed and trying to get his pants on. Moose raised his pistol and fired twice, both rounds taking Roberto through the heart. He dropped like a slab of meat to the floor and Moose stepped back out into the hallway.
The next door opened before they got to it, and James burst out of it with a gun in his hand. He tried to aim it at Moose, but Noah fired once and struck him through the Adam’s apple. James went down holding his throat, the gun falling from his grip as he tried to stem the flow of blood.
They stepped over James as he gurgled his last, and Noah pointed at Deanna’s door. Moose kicked it in and Noah stepped inside. Deanna DiPrizio was sitting up in her bed, and tears were streaming down her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out at first. Noah raised his gun and aimed it at her, and suddenly she began to beg.
“Please, please don’t kill me,” she said. “I know who you are, I know you’re with the police, I can give you information…”
“Can you tell me the name of the Director?” Noah said coldly.
Deanna’s eyes looked confused for a moment, but then she shook her head. “None of us know his name,” she said. “But I can…”
“Then you have nothing I want,” Noah said. He squeezed the trigger and blew her brains across the wall behind her bed. Her face went slack as she fell backward.
He turned and walked out of the room and stepped directly back into the elevator. Moose followed, and Noah pushed the button for the garage level. They stepped out and moved along the walls, staying in darkness until they got close to the exit. The attendant was still staring at his phone with his back to them, so they quickly turned the corner and were out of sight within seconds. Neither of them spoke until they got into the truck and pulled away from the curb.
