“Look, J.D., I keep you involved with national security because of your expertise in shedding light on what lurks in the shadows. I don’t need you to go on some vigilante crusades.”
Blunt scowled. “Vigilante crusades? I’m not sure how digging deeper into this conspiracy constitutes a vigilante crusade.”
“I’m not talking about this,” Michaels said, gesturing toward the papers on the coffee table. “I’m referring to the little visit you recently paid Horace Mullen.”
“How did you know that?”
“Horace called me and told me that you were snooping around about some military ruling he made to seal records years ago,” Michaels said.
“There’s more to it than that. I was just—”
“I don’t care what your reasons are or what you think you might know about that case, just drop it.”
“If there’s something worth investigating, I’ll look into it. How can I give you sound advice about anything without looking further into a situation like this? I need to make sure everything I’m telling you has been vetted several times over before I bring it to you.”
“Trust me when I say this: You’re better off leaving this one alone.”
“Is there something you’re not telling me, sir?”
“J.D., I forget more secrets in a day than I can count. That’s just how it is when you reach the executive branch of the government. I’m here to govern and do so off sound information from trust sources like you. I can’t have you running around trying to look into a twenty-year-old case that literally has no bearing on national security.”
“So you are familiar with what happened to Capt. Black?”
Michaels nodded. “And it doesn’t matter. He’s gone.”
“What about justice for those he’s left behind?”
“Most of them are dead, including his son. Why don’t you just let a sleeping dog lie?”
Blunt eased back in his seat. “Look, I don’t want to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong and—”
“Good,” Michaels said. “I’m glad that’s settled. If you only knew what it was like for just a day to walk in my shoes, you’d know that there are plenty of stories that are best left buried for the sake of everyone involved.”
“Just shoot me straight on this issue: Was Capt. Black’s mission sabotaged?”
Michaels bit his lip and slowly shook his head. “Of course not. Now, let’s move on, shall we?”
Blunt nodded and dug out another set of documents from his briefcase before sliding it toward Michaels. “I thought you might want to have a look at these.”
Michaels’s eyebrows shot upward as he perused the page. “Have you verified all of this?”
Blunt nodded. “I spoke with an agent last week who has demonstration footage of the weapon.”
“I’d like to see that—and then get it to the Security Council. We need to make sure nobody else gets their hands on this.”
Blunt nodded. “Of course, sir.”
He collected all the documents and stood before offering his hand. Michaels shook it and then slapped Blunt on the back.
“I appreciate all you do, J.D.,” Michaels said. “I’m not sure my administration could make the best decisions if not for your wisdom.”
“Thank you, sir,” Blunt said.
Michaels exited the room, and Blunt followed protocol, waiting five minutes before leaving. And he spent all five of those minutes stewing over Michaels’s response.
Blunt, like any good poker player, excelled when it came to picking up someone else’s tell. Michaels’s was slight, barely noticeable to most people. But to Blunt, Michaels’s tick might was well have been a flashing red light accompanied by a siren: Whenever Michaels bit his lip, he was lying.
Like hell I’m gonna let a sleeping dog lie.
Blunt left the White House more determined than ever to find out what exactly Judge Mullen and Michaels were intent on hiding. Even though Blunt had to leave in the morning for a short trip to Geneva, he wasn’t about to delay his hunt for the truth about what really happened to Capt. Black in Afghanistan.
CHAPTER 7
Tangiers, Morocco
BLACK AND SHIELDS AWAITED Blunt at the Firestorm safe house overlooking the Mediterranean. A cool breeze wafted across the veranda, chilling Black as he scanned the water below. While he longed to simply drink in the serene vista where sailboats dotted the seascape, he couldn’t help himself. He studied each vessel, attempting to determine if anyone of them could be spying on the Firestorm team’s conversation.
Shields sauntered up to next to him and then rested on her elbows atop the waist-high stone wall. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Only if you have a hunch that the blue sailboat down there is being manned by a pair of Russian SVR agents,” Black said, his eyes still fixed on the horizon.
“And this is why you belong in the field permanently.”
Black shrugged. “Maybe it’d do me some good to sit still in a chair for a few weeks. It might tamp down all this paranoia I have.”
“That’s what makes you a great agent,” Blunt said, his voice arresting their attention.
Black and Shields turned around to find their director wearing a gray suit and a wide grin.
“Come, let’s go inside where we can have a conversation free of any prying ears,” Blunt said, gesturing them toward the door. “The blue sailboat is definitely two operatives trying to eavesdrop on us.”
“I knew it,” Black said as he followed Shields and Blunt inside.
Blunt shook his head. “If you couldn’t pick them out, I would seriously consider re-assigning you to some position more suitable for your poor observational skills.”
“We could stay out on the porch and give them some bad information,” Shields suggested.
“Not today,” Blunt said. “We don’t need to misdirect them, especially since we don’t even know if they’re here for us.”
“Who else could they be here for?” she asked.
“Take your pick—MI6 has a safe house two doors down, as do the Chinese. It’s a neighborhood of spies.”
“And you know this how?” she asked.
“Because one intelligence group I consulted with built this entire enclave of houses and targeted foreign agencies as buyers,” Blunt said. “And let’s just say that it’s turned into a gold mine of information for us.”
“Slick,” Shields said. “I wouldn’t have thought of that.”
“Don’t worry,” Blunt said. “I have some friends who’ve vetted every seller and builder of the homes where you both live. You can never be too sure.”
They all sat down in the living room in front of the cozy fire Black had started earlier.
“I think we’d both agree with that sentiment after what just happened in Zurich,” Black said.
Blunt fished a cigar out of his pocket and clipped the end. He commenced to chewing on the stogie, staring off with a pensive look before turning his gaze toward his two agents.
“You said it was urgent that we speak,” Blunt said. “That’s why I delayed my trip to Geneva for a day.”
“And we appreciate that,” Shields said. “We didn’t really feel like this was the sort of thing that could wait.”
“That bad, huh?” Blunt asked.
“Bad would be an understatement,” Black said. “There’s someone actively hunting you, and this someone doesn’t just want to chat.”
“He’s hostile?”
“I bet he’d disembowel you if given the opportunity,” Black said. “He has a serious vendetta against you. To be quite frank, I’m not sure it’s safe for you to be in Switzerland right now. If he knew you were there and walking around in the open, he might come after you.”
“I’m not even leaving the airport,” Blunt said. “It’s just a quick exchange there and I’ll be back in Washington by tomorrow afternoon.”
“What kind of exchange?” Shields asked.
“That information is need-to-know,” Blu
nt said. “Now, what else did you learn in your interaction with Antoine?”
“Well, not much,” Black said. “He seemed somewhat obsessed with you.”
“So, you don’t know anything about Dr. Matthews?”
Black shook his head. “The whole thing felt like a setup, like he knew you would send an agent—and that your agent would likely prevail against the men he hired. Perhaps he just wanted to lure you to the Savoy Hotel where he could kill you.”
Blunt pulled the cigar out of his mouth and grunted. “Antoine had to know I would never walk into a situation like that. He’s a sharp agent.”
“Think he just wanted to kill one of your agents to prove a point?” Shields asked.
Blunt pointed at her and nodded. “Now, that’s the most likely scenario. He’s still very bitter.”
Black learned forward in his chair. “About what?”
Blunt stood up and sauntered over to the wet bar in the corner of the room. He poured himself a drink and then paced around.
“Several years ago, Antoine wanted to work for me. He was a Russian operative who had a bounty placed on his head by the SVR. The Russians were convinced he was a spy. To our knowledge, he wasn’t. But someone had framed him. So, instead of pleading his case to his own government, he offered his valuable knowledge and services to the U.S. in exchange for asylum and protection.”
“Yet he hates you?” Shields asked. “There must be more to this story.”
“I can’t go into all the details, but Antoine auditioned to be an agent for me,” Blunt said.
Black got up and fixed a drink for Shields and himself. He handed one to her and then sat back down. “Apparently, that didn’t work out as he’d hoped.”
“Or me either,” Blunt said. “My expectations were that he’d be able to infiltrate certain illegal arms markets for us and give us some insight into what the trends were among terrorists in the Middle East and figure out what opportunities we might have to infiltrate some of those tight circles, basically anything to give us an edge in snuffing out attacks before they happen.”
“I take it he didn’t pass his assignment,” Shields suggested.
“Quite the contrary,” Blunt said. “He passed it with flying colors. I had him take out a Chinese assassin, Wei Ying, we’d been struggling to eliminate for years. He’d made a name for himself by throwing people off tall buildings, deaths that were all classified as suicides.”
“I think I remember a rash of men from the financial sector leaping to their deaths in China a few years back,” Shields said.
“Nobody was jumping off roofs,” Blunt said. “Those men were all successful and hadn’t acquiesced to the demands of the Chinese government, which proved to be their ultimate downfall, no pun intended.”
“So you had Antoine eliminate Ying?” Black asked.
Blunt took a long pull on his drink. “It was a day that intelligence agents the world over celebrated. By our best guess, Ying had killed more than four dozen operatives affiliated with various governments the world over. I know he’d taken out more than a dozen of the CIA’s men and women.”
“He seems exactly like the kind of guy you’re looking for,” Black said.
Blunt shrugged. “If he were, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now. I gave the position to you.”
Black’s eyes widened. “So I was your second choice?”
“You were my first,” Blunt said. “The two of you were evenly matched skill wise, but I didn’t fully trust him for some reason. Maybe it’s only because he wanted the position due to the SVR targeting him for elimination; I don’t know. But at the end of the day, I just didn’t feel right about it. Something in my gut told me to do otherwise. I can’t really explain it.”
Black sighed. “Well, now he’s ready to make you pay.”
“It won’t be any time soon since he’s on dozens of blacklists and wanted by Interpol for some other crimes he’s since committed,” Blunt said. “There’s no way he could even get into the U.S. right now. But when he decides to make a run at me, I’ll be ready.”
“Will you?” Black asked.
“Without a doubt.”
Blunt’s phone rang, so he excused himself from the room. Black and Shields discussed the conversation that had just occurred.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Shields asked.
“Only if you’re thinking about devouring some lamb roast tonight at that tavern downtown where we ate last time,” he said as he sat back down.
“You know what I’m talking about.”
Black took a deep breath. “I don’t know. As you well know, my trust is always in short supply. But if I had to give to anyone, Blunt would get the benefit of the doubt.”
“Why do I get the sense that you’re trying to convince yourself of this fact?”
“Maybe because we both get the sense that Blunt is hiding something,” Black said.
Moments later, Blunt returned to the room, tapping his cell phone against the palm of his left hand. “Looks like you don’t need to worry about my trip to Switzerland after all.”
Black sat upright in his chair. “Why’s that?”
“That was Besserman,” Blunt said. “We just got a hit on Antoine. He’s in Merano, Italy.”
“That still doesn’t solve the problem of where Dr. Matthews is, or if this is even about him,” Shields said.
“Which is why you two are going to Merano tonight to find out what’s really going on,” Blunt said. “And good luck, you two.”
CHAPTER 8
Two days later
Merano, Italy
THE WINDSHIELD WIPERS swung furiously back and forth as Black navigated the SUV up the twisting mountain road. All of the surrounding peaks were heavily coated as most of the ski resorts in the picturesque Alps had opened early thanks to record amounts of snowfall. Black leaned forward and nodded toward the mansion overhanging the valley.
“There it is,” he said to Shields. “The home of Salvatore Duca, the boss of the Mala del Brenta mafia operation.”
“I thought that group disappeared a long time ago,” she said.
“They did. And Duca wisely relocated up here out of the public eye, building a veritable fortress. He took over the assets after the last boss died, doled them out to many of the members, and then announced that they were closed for business.”
Shields chuckled. “And people bought that?”
“I guess if you lay low long enough, people will forget about you,” Black said. “The latest briefing on Duca I read said that he was partnering with another crime family, working as a subsidiary, if you will. Pretty smart, if you ask me.”
“He must line some politicians’ pockets to get away with the ruse that he isn’t involved in organized crime anymore.”
“Of course,” Black said, nodding in agreement. “This is Italy, the birthplace of corruption in the west. Of all the great things Rome gave us, greedy politicians and corrupt leadership ranks at the top of the list.”
“And the rest of the world has seen that as some blueprint instead of a cautionary tale.”
“If they didn’t, we might have to do some boring job,” Black said. “Maybe you’d be a tax accountant.”
“I’m sure I’d find something slightly more interesting than that.”
“Wouldn’t take much, would it?” Black said with a wink.
He continued along the road, which overlooked the Passer River flowing down the mountain, which was still flowing steadily. They drove along in silence for a few minutes until they drew closer to the gate leading up to Duca’s property.
Both sporting catering attire, they stopped a few hundred meters shy of the estate, just around a bend that wasn’t visible from the front entrance. Black popped the hood and got out. He put a white flare on the engine block and waited for the next guest to approach.
“I really hope this works,” Shields said. “I’m not too keen on getting buried at the bottom of this valley.”
Black chuckled. “You think these guys are going to bury us if they catch us? We’ll be chopped up into tiny little pieces and fed to their dogs.”
“You have such a way with imagery,” she said. “I think I’m going to throw up now.”
“Not yet. You have to save that as part of your fake pregnancy shtick if we can’t get anyone to buy that we’re really part of the catering crew.”
“We only have one shot,” she said. “If you’re having doubts about which plan is going to work, we should switch now.”
Black pursed his lips as he stared down the road at a pair of headlights heading toward them. “No, this is the ticket. Duca’s daughter is turning eighteen tonight. They will want every person on hand to help with the massive amount of guests.”
“How many did you say were coming?”
“Over five hundred,” Black said. “About a third of those were planning on skiing in from the chateau. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be enough parking.”
“He’s also got several luxury vans bringing up people.”
“I know,” Black said. “I considered posing as taxi drivers for the event, but I’m not sure I would’ve been able to stomach the drive back and forth all night. Plus, I’m sure we would’ve been more scrutinized at the gate.”
“All I know is that if we go through all this trouble, Antoine better be here,” she said. “I’m still not convinced Dr. Matthews has anything to do with this. As far as I can tell, he used the quest for the missing scientist as bait for Blunt.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll figure out what’s going on soon enough—as long as he doesn’t kill us first.”
The approaching vehicle slowed as Black stepped into the road and waved his hands in an effort to flag down the car. Smoke poured out from beneath the hood, drifting across both lanes of traffic. The car eased to a stop next to Black.
“What seems to be the problem?” a man asked in Italian. He was dressed in a tuxedo and was accompanied by a woman with a large sparkling diamond ring in the passenger side and a teenage girl in the back.
Bingo.
“Our car is broken down, and we’re supposed to be catering at a party for the Duca’s tonight,” Black responded in Italian. “Would you mind giving us a lift? We can’t miss work, especially a party for Mr. Duca.”
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