Dark Return

by DV Berkom

  “Thanks for the offer, but I prefer taking out dirtbags to babysitting Saudi billionaires.”

  “Just putting it out there.” He handed her a fitted armored vest and nodded at the center armrest between them. “Your piece is in the console.”

  Leine removed her jacket and shirt to strap on the vest, and smiled in amusement as Jack averted his gaze to his phone. When she was satisfied with the fit, she put the shirt and jacket back on over the armor. She opened the lid of the armrest to find a Glock 42 and three extra magazines. She checked the piece, even though she knew Jack would have done so himself. The magazine contained six .380 rounds with one in the chamber for a total of seven. The smaller pistol would be low profile enough to carry in a crowd and would be easier to shoot one-handed, should she need to. A plus for Leine, since her arm still bothered her. She slipped the gun into a holster in her waistband and stored the extra ammunition in her pockets.

  “Here’s your comms.” He handed her a tiny earpiece, which she slid into her ear. The small radio fit neatly inside her pocket.

  “Range?” she asked.

  “Far enough. I’ll have guys on both sides of the bridge watching you.”

  “And when French authorities deploy the cell jammer?” Memories of the devastation caused by the cell phone detonated bomb at Notre Dame flashed through her mind.

  “Then we rely on visual communication.”

  “Standard special ops signals?”

  He nodded.

  “What if I need a diversion?”

  “Run your right hand through your hair.” He shifted in his seat to face her. “I’m betting on being able to communicate through the mic for most of the op. We don’t know what their end game is yet. It’s possible they’ll send you on a wild goose chase like they did the day of the Notre Dame bombing. In fact, I’m counting on it. They’re going to want anybody helping you to scramble.”

  “Maybe. But they don’t have my number. The last message telling me to come here went to SHEN offices.” She nodded at the flat screen in front of her. “Do you mind if I check something?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Leine accessed the internet and the message board she shared with Jinn. There was a message, but it wasn’t from the kid. The forwarded note was from Lou. She tapped the link and opened the message. Lou wrote:

  Leine, I received this message at 0:700. Let me know if you need anything. Lou.

  —-Forwarded Message Attached—-

  Dear Leine. I’m scared. They’re making me go to Paris, like before. Meet me at the bridge near the Eiffel Tower, like they told you to do. You must come alone. If you don’t, they will kill me. ~Jinn

  “Shit.”

  Jack looked at the screen. “What is it?”

  “A message from Jinn saying they want me to come alone to the meet. But something she wrote doesn’t make sense.”

  Jack read the message. “What?”

  “She says they’re making her go to Paris, like before. She’s never been to Paris.”

  “She’s trying to tell you something.”

  “If this is anything ‘like before,’ then they’re planning to put a suicide vest on her and detonate via mobile.” She took out her sat phone and called Miller.

  “Basso here,” she said when he answered. “I just got another message from Jinn. Looks like they’re going to try the same thing they did at Notre Dame by remotely detonating a bomb.”

  “I’ll suggest the police deploy the jammer as soon as we have a location,” Miller replied.

  “If you do that, they’re going to know we’re onto them. They want me to go in alone. That’s a popular area. There are a lot of tourists with cell phones. Jamming communications will be pretty obvious. I’d prefer they wait.”

  “Their main criteria will be civilian safety. That alone will dictate whether they deploy or not.”

  “I understand. But can you ask them to delay? The longer the terrorists think I’m alone, the better. Once we know the location they can set up and wait until the plan is clear.”

  “You should be aware that there’s a festival being held not far from the rendezvous point. We’re betting the target is somewhere nearby.”

  “What festival is that?”

  “It’s a new one dreamed up by the French wine industry and has something to do with celebrating Bacchus. They’ve partially barricaded two bridges, enlarging the pedestrian-only section on each. I’ve got assets in place near the area.”

  “Which bridges are affected?”

  “The first bridge upstream is the Passerelle Debilly, and is pedestrian-only. The next two are down to one direction of traffic—the Pont de l’Alma, and Pont des Invalides. After that is the Pont Alexandre, but traffic there isn’t affected by the festival. The second and third bridges are the locations I’m most worried about. Traffic’s going to be a hell of a mess. Too many choke points.” Miller sighed, the frustration in his voice palpable. “I’ll relay your request and let them know your concerns.”

  “Copy that,” Leine said. It would have to do.

  41

  THEY REACHED THE area near the Pont d’léna forty-five minutes later. Leine exited the town car two blocks away, in an effort to avoid tipping off the terrorist’s over-watch. Jack would take up position with his own over-watch in place and communicate from there.

  She walked toward the bridge and surreptitiously scanned the people she passed, alert for anything out of the ordinary. Everyone appeared to be enjoying the bright, sunny day. Their smiling faces and celebratory mood stood in direct contrast to the darkness of Leine’s thoughts.

  She reached the Seine and turned toward the steps leading up to the bridge. A dark-haired man wearing sunglasses and a white T-shirt bumped into her and shoved a mobile phone in her hand before melting into the crowd. Seconds later, the phone vibrated. Leine answered on the second ring.

  “Look to the right.” It was a man’s voice. “There is a tourist boat with a red banner that reads ‘Seine River Cruise.’ Purchase a ticket and board the boat.”

  “Where’s Jinn?” she asked, but the caller had hung up. She pocketed the phone as she walked toward the Seine.

  “Boarding the boat,” she murmured, keeping her voice low in case the burner phone she was just handed had listening software installed. Someone on the other end keyed the mic twice, acknowledging the transmission.

  She reached the ticket booth and waited behind a family of four buying tickets.

  When it was her turn, the ticket taker glanced at the clock and said, “Mais oui. That’s cutting things close. You just made the sailing.” She smiled as she took Leine’s money. “Enjoy the sights.”

  “Merci.” Leine took her ticket and walked down the gangway toward the crowded boat. She handed her ticket to the man standing at the entrance to the vessel. He glanced at it and motioned for her to take the last seat near the stern.

  She remained standing and scanned the passengers for Jinn or anyone who looked nervous. Most were obviously tourists, gaily chatting with each other, taking pictures and video, and waiting for the boat to get underway. The wheelhouse was amidships, and an awning had been erected down the center of the boat. There were seats near the stern where she stood, as well as in the center, with the majority of tourists sitting near the bow.

  Was she being sent on a wild goose chase, meant to keep her occupied while the terrorists mounted their attack? This particular cruise didn’t have any scheduled stops—the boat would head upriver for a predetermined distance and then turn around and come back to where they started.

  Or was the boat intrinsic to their plan? The festival taking place on the bridges between where Leine boarded and the Pont Alexandre would give La Pointe the audience she craved. But why the boat? Leine doubted she’d been able to store enough explosives on the vessel to do extensive damage to one of the well-built bridges. True, a suicide bomb would kill dozens of passengers on the full boat, but that didn’t fit La Pointe’s MO. She preferred to do things in
a big way—enough to interrupt the endless, twenty-four-seven news cycle for a good chunk of time.

  There had to be something else.

  A crew member waiting on shore untied the mooring lines and tossed them to the man who had taken Leine’s ticket. He coiled the lines and stowed them, and made sure the gate was secure. The captain engaged the engine and steered the low-slung boat away from the dock and headed upstream. A prerecorded commentary of local landmarks began to play first in French, then in English, continuing in Spanish, Italian, and Japanese.

  With a sinking feeling, Leine continued to study the people on board. La Pointe had obviously just used Jinn’s presence as bait, since she hadn’t yet seen anyone resembling the kid in the crowd.

  The temperature was warm for so early in April, and most of the passengers had opted for outside seating. The awning provided much-needed shade but also obstructed her view, as did the wheelhouse. She moved to a better position portside and scanned the crowd of passengers near the bow.

  A man with his back to Leine blocked her view of several of the passengers, so she made her way forward. As she drew even with him, his gaze met hers and he stepped back, revealing a white-faced Jinn. Wearing a brightly colored backpack, she sat ramrod-straight in a chair mid-row. Her eyes were rimmed with red and dried tears streaked her face.

  Leine swallowed her surprise and kept her expression impassive as she considered how to neutralize the man guarding Jinn without causing a panic among the rest of the passengers.

  Just then, the burner phone the stranger on the quay had given her began to vibrate. Without taking her eyes off the man and the girl, she slid the device from her pocket and answered.

  “I see you have found your little friend.”

  The familiar voice was distinctly feminine, with a French accent. La Pointe. She glanced at Jinn’s guard. His expression blank, he stood with his hands clasped in front of him and stared straight ahead as though enjoying the scenery.

  “Who is this?” Leine asked the caller. What name was La Pointe using today?

  “No, no, no. That would be too easy. You must guess. I will tell you that if you are considering eliminating the man standing next to you, you will want to reconsider. At this moment you and the girl are in a sniper’s crosshairs. If anything happens to him before the boat docks at the end of your journey, you will both be killed instantly.”

  “You’re spoiling all the fun,” Leine replied.

  Ignoring the sarcastic remark, La Pointe continued. “Your girl fought like an alley cat when we put the pack on her, but once she realized we’d kill you no matter what she did, she became much more manageable. Such loyalty.”

  Leine regulated her breathing and loosened her grip on the phone. “I’m surprised you called, Blanche. Or should I call you Salome? I would think someone as important as you wouldn’t stoop to administrative tasks.”

  She spoke loud enough to be heard over the engines. The inane conversation would signal to Jack and his team that she was talking to La Pointe.

  “You’ve figured out who I am. Brava!” La Pointe chuckled. “As for making the call myself, I wanted to hear your voice before I said goodbye.”

  “Oh? Are you going somewhere?” Leine glanced at the likely path of the river boat. At its current rate of speed, the vessel would reach the nearest bridge—the pedestrian-only Passerelle Debilly, which was packed with people enjoying the festival—soon. Too soon. Beyond that lay the Pont de l’Alma, the Pont des Invalides, and the Pont Alexandre, the last two the most well-known and best-loved bridges in Paris.

  The woman ignored Leine’s question. “Here is how things will go. The backpack the child is wearing contains a bomb which is attached to her body with wires. If the connection is severed, the bomb will go off.”

  Leine studied the pack, estimating the amount of explosives it could carry. If detonated, the damage to the vessel would be significant. The blast would certainly kill both Jinn and herself, but she doubted that was La Pointe’s end game.

  “I need to speak with the girl’s guard,” La Pointe said. “Hand him the phone.”

  Leine did as instructed and shifted her gaze underneath Jinn’s seat as the man took the mobile. A large black canvas bag had been stuffed into the void. Another bomb? She couldn’t see the wires running up to the seat, but she didn’t doubt they were there.

  The man spoke rapidly in French, acknowledging whatever she told him, and handed the phone back to Leine.

  “He’s going to have a talk with the captain,” La Pointe said. “Again, you must not do anything to stop him or both you and the girl will be killed. And if you warn anyone about the bomb, many people will die.”

  Leine followed the man with her gaze as he made his way to the wheelhouse. He stopped at the open door and engaged the captain in conversation. She turned her attention back to Jinn.

  She sat down next to her, carefully unzipped the top of the backpack, and peered inside. A bright red countdown display that read 2:49 was visible through a mass of wires. Once tripped, the bomb would theoretically go off in less than three minutes.

  “Using a countdown trigger and a detonator circuit is a tad redundant, don’t you think?” Leine said, again giving Jack and his team what information she could without tipping off La Pointe.

  “Perhaps. But that is not all I have in store. It would be too easy, n’est-ce pas?”

  Leine didn’t respond, instead calculating how she could remove the pack without breaking the connection, and throw it into the Seine before one of La Pointe’s gunmen figured out what she’d done and detonated the bomb from afar.

  “By your silence, I assume you are trying to work out how much damage one bomb that size could do, yes?”

  Leine didn’t say anything, preferring to let La Pointe continue.

  “I would warn you not to attempt anything heroic like tossing the backpack into the Seine or something silly like that. Even if you were successful in removing the pack, the girl sits on a pressure plate. Removing the weight will detonate yet another set of explosives beneath her chair. This, along with the bomb in her pack is enough to do some real damage. What do you think? You have had experience with this kind of thing before, no?”

  “Not really. Most garden-variety terrorists use one or the other. I assume both contain shrapnel and are designed to cause the most damage?” She eyed the bridge looming ahead of them—the Passerelle Debilly. They would be even with the structure soon.

  “Of course. Although, this will only be a small part of the bomb’s effect. The loss of life will be significant, I assure you.” La Pointe paused. “Well, I shall leave you to it. I’ve much more to attend to than this little exercise. One more question, though, if I may.”

  “What’s that?” Leine asked, masking her annoyance.

  Unable to hide her fear, Jinn looked at Leine, eyes wide. She clutched her mother’s necklace in her small fist. Leine placed a calming hand on her shoulder. No sense in scaring the kid more than she already was.

  “I have heard that you were once called The Leopard. Is this true? Are you the mysterious assassin from years ago? Please tell me this is so.”

  Leine stopped herself from hanging up on the terrorist. Time was running out, but there was no telling what she’d do in response to the insult. “I’m afraid you received faulty information,” she answered. “I work for SHEN, as I’m sure you are aware. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? The fact that I rescued one of your pet projects from Izz Al-Din?”

  La Pointe’s low chuckle rankled Leine. Not the response she expected.

  “I’m disappointed. You were not prescient enough to figure out that I placed Chessa in your path. I wanted you to rescue her. Who do you think tipped you off to her location in Tripoli?”

  Leine’s breath caught. La Pointe was the informant who called SHEN with the tip to where Chessa was being held? “You sacrificed one of your own?” Leine killed the man guarding the American teenager. La Pointe had surely known he’d be in dang
er.

  La Pointe laughed outright this time. “He was expendable. I sacrificed a pawn to get my queen out of Libya and into Western Europe. No one would ever guess where her loyalties lay—it was the perfect ruse. Although it didn’t work quite as well as I expected, thanks to you. Casualties were...limited. Much like the last time you were involved in one of my pet projects.”

  Obviously she was referring to Leine’s role in thwarting the plot to bring the United States and Russia to the brink of nuclear war.

  Leine tensed as the river boat entered the stretch of water beneath the pedestrian bridge. The shadow cast by the steel structure chilled the air around them. She kept her hand on Jinn’s shoulder and held her breath, searching the supports for a detonator.

  Please don’t let this kid die. Not now.

  The explosion never came. Leine exhaled with relief as the boat glided beneath the Passerelle Debilly and came out the other side unscathed.

  “Oh my goodness. You should have seen the look that came over your face just now. Your resolution is commendable. Why would I be interested in destroying such an inconsequential bridge when there are others with much more potential?”

  “Is there anything else?” Leine ground out the words. Obviously, La Pointe was eating up time while watching her, whether through binoculars or some other means.

  “No, but it’s been my pleasure—”

  Leine ended the call. She’d had enough. She set the phone on the chair next to her and glanced toward the wheelhouse, looking for the captain. He was nowhere in sight. Neither was the man who’d been guarding Jinn. She turned to the kid.

  “Did La Pointe say anything about what she was planning?”

  Jinn shook her head. “No. Only that if I try to remove the pack or even move that I will kill myself and everyone around me.”