by Alex Ander
Charity gestured toward her laptop. “I’ve got the address of where Yamadi was when he got the call.”
“Where?” asked Hardy.
“It looks like a small shop in a business district in Denver.”
“Is he still there?”
Charity shrugged her shoulders. “This address is the last known location of his cell phone. The phone went off the grid shortly after Dahlia’s asset made the call to Yamadi. My guess is he either turned off the phone or destroyed it, thinking it may lead us to him.”
“Get that address to Cruz.” Hardy returned to his phone call. “Is there anything else, Director Burroughs?”
“That’s all I have right now. If anything comes up, I’ll let you know.”
It was time for Hardy to share what information he had. “I’m on my way to Denver. We have a lead on a man named Ashar Yamadi. He may be involved in this. We intercepted a phone call between him and one of our assets. There’s something going on, but we’re not sure what it is.”
“Wait a minute.”
Hardy heard her shuffling papers and her voice faded away before coming back again.
“What was that name again?”
“Ashar Yamadi,” said Hardy.
“Son of a…” her voice trailed off.
“What is it, Director Burroughs?”
“Calista Nasser’s mother re-married after her first husband died almost twenty years ago, taking the name of her current husband. Any guesses on the last name of her late husband?”
Hardy already had the answer halfway into Burroughs question. “Yamadi,” he said, letting his head fall back onto the headrest of his seat. “What about any living relatives?”
“Calista has two older brothers.” Burroughs scanned her paperwork. “One is named Ashar.”
Thinking, Hardy spoke under his breath, but loud enough for Burroughs to hear. “Ashar Yamadi is Calista Nasser’s half-brother. This can’t be a coincidence. They have to be involved.”
Burroughs agreed. “I’m going to get everything I can on Ashar Yamadi.”
“You won’t find much, I’m afraid. He’s new to the game and apparently hasn’t left a trail.”
“Still, I need to investigate. Let me know when you’ve confirmed Yamadi’s location.”
Hardy got Charity’s attention, as well as the last known location of Yamadi’s cell phone. “I have it right here.” He passed along the information to Burroughs with some final words. “Don’t do anything, until I get there. I want in on this operation. My people will be waiting for me when I land in Denver.” Receiving Burroughs’ word that she would hold off on initiating an assault, Hardy disconnected the call and told Charity what he had learned.
Hardy checked the time on his phone. He had more than an hour before the plane landed in Denver. With nothing left to do, except wait, he asked the flight attendant for a couple of blankets and pillows. When she returned with them, he took one of each and motioned toward Charity. The flight attendant handed the remaining blanket and pillow to Charity. Reclining in his seat, he put the pillow behind his head and covered up with the blanket. He had been trained to get sleep whenever and wherever it was possible. Sometimes, he could sleep and sometimes it was difficult. This was not going to be one of those difficult times. Less than five minutes after closing his eyes, he was asleep.
Chapter 22: Denver
9:45 a.m. (Mountain Time); Denver, Colorado
Denver International Airport (DIA) is the largest airport in the United States in terms of land area and the sixth busiest in the U.S. in traffic with more than fifty-four million passengers. DIA also boasts the longest runway in the country at sixteen thousand feet. One hundred and thirty-three gates are spread over three concourses. The passengers of the Gulfstream V that had just landed were not headed for any of them.
Special Agent Cruz and Dahlia descended the stairs attached to the jet and hurried toward one of two black SUV’s. Cruz opened the front passenger door and got in, while Dahlia climbed into the back seat behind Cruz. When the women were inside and had their seatbelts on, Hardy put the SUV in ‘drive’ and drove away from the jet. The second SUV, with a four-man FBI Hostage Rescue Team inside, followed.
Hardy saw Dahlia and Charity in the rear view mirror. The two women had not been officially introduced to each other. “Charity, meet Dahlia…Dahlia meet Charity. Charity is the team’s Information and Technology Specialist. Any questions on computers and intelligence, she’s the go-to person.”
Charity twisted her upper body and held out her right hand. “Pleased to meet you,” she said with a smile.
Dahlia shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” After a few seconds of studying Charity, Dahlia added, “If you’re the computer genius, then am I safe to assume it was you who tracked me down back in New York, two months ago.”
Charity affirmed Dahlia’s assumption.
“That was nice work. I have some experience with computers, too. May I ask how you did it?”
“First, I tried my facial recognition software, but you never faced any of the surveillance cameras.”
Now it was Dahlia’s turn to smile.
“Once Hardy identified you by your clothing, I used the cameras to find you getting into your vehicle. I was able to get a partial plate number, which I ran through the DMV in California and got lucky; only one Jeep Renegade matched the partial plate.”
Dahlia nodded. “Nice,” she said. “You said your facial recognition software…” she let her voice trail off, waiting for clarification.
“I’m also a programmer. The software was something I’ve been tinkering with for a few years. Working with the FBI, I’ve been able to finish it and put it to good use.”
Overhearing their conversation, Hardy glimpsed the women through the mirror. They seem to be hitting if off. “I hate to break you two up,” Hardy cranked the steering wheel to the left and navigated the SUV into traffic, “but we need to focus on the mission.”
Dahlia leaned toward Charity and whispered to her. “I’d love to see your work some time, if you don’t mind.”
…………………………
Hardy used the forty-minute drive to update everyone on the details of the mission, including the fact that Layla was actually Calista Nasser, half-sister to Ashar Yamadi. Charity provided the layout of the shop they would be assaulting as well as the surrounding business district, located on the Northeast edge of Denver. Driving on Welton Street, Hardy saw the flashing lights of police vehicles several blocks ahead. He had planned to park a few blocks away from the shop and go the rest of the way on foot. As he drew closer to the police vehicles, he felt his stomach twisting into knots and a bad feeling swept over him. He rotated his head to the right, but kept his eyes on the road. “Cherry, can you check—”
“I’ve already double-checked the location. “Those vehicles are parked right in front of the storefront where Yamadi’s phone last had a signal. We’re in the right place.”
Inwardly, Hardy groaned. On the outside, he gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Son of a…the only other person who knew the location was Director Burroughs, and she gave me her word she would not go in without us.” Since there was no need for stealth, Hardy parked as close as he could to the yellow ribbon stretched around the area to keep bystanders away. His fingers repeatedly smacked the screen on his phone, as he dialed the number for Burroughs. She answered on the third ring.
“This is Director Burroughs.” She sounded distracted.
Skipping formalities, Hardy got right into his tirade. “You gave me your word you’d wait for me. I get here and find the place crawling with agents.”
The anger in his voice got Burroughs attention. “Hardy?” she said. “What are you talking about?”
“You damn well know what I’m talking about. I’m in Denver, staring at your people screwing up my operation. I gave you Yamadi’s location and you gave me your word you wouldn’t move without me.”
“Back it up, Hardy.” Bu
rroughs’ voice was rising, too. “I gave you my word and I kept my end of the deal. I haven’t authorized anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then, who am I looking at? I told no one else about Yamadi’s location.”
Burroughs was silent for several moments.
Thinking he lost the connection, Hardy hailed her. “Burroughs, are you still there?”
“I’m here.” The distraction in her voice was back.
“Care to explain?” he said, his temper growing more noticeable and less manageable.
“I never authorized a raid; however, I did pass along the information to my boss.”
Gillespie, thought Hardy. It would be just like him to rush in, hoping to get all the credit and repair his image with the President.
“Director Gillespie is my supervisor. I had to inform him…Give me some time and I’ll find out what happened.”
“Forget it,” Hardy snarled. “The damage is done.” He disconnected the call without giving her a chance to reply, jammed the phone into his pocket and wrenched on the door handle. “Let’s go get some answers.”
Chapter 23: O’Neill
Approaching the yellow tape, Hardy spied a man who appeared to be an agent with a good deal of authority. The agent was shouting into his cell phone, intermittently breaking away to give orders to the men around him. He was of average height and build with dark hair, buzzed to within a half-inch of his scalp. As soon as Hardy lifted the tape and ducked under it, the agent hollered at Hardy.
“This is an official police investigation.” He thrust his finger in the general direction behind Hardy. “You’re not allowed in here.”
Hardy flashed his credentials. “I’m Special Agent Aaron Hardy of the FBI.” He gestured toward his teammates, who had cleared the tape and were a step behind him. “This is my team. Who’s in charge?”
The agent glanced at Cruz and Charity, who was still wearing her red business suit, before spending more time studying Dahlia, starting with her knee boots. He went back to his phone call, making sure everyone could hear him. “I’ll have to call you back. Apparently, the circus is in town.”
Cruz clutched the arm of Dahlia, who was charging toward the man, and yanked, spinning her body around. “Take it easy, Dahlia.”
Hardy ignored the remark and glanced at the man’s badge. “Agent…O’Neill, who’s in charge of this operation?” He pointed at the building. “I need to get in there and have a look around.”
O’Neill poked his chest with his thumb. “I’m in charge and there’s no way in hell you or any member of your…team is going anywhere near,” he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “that building. Do I make myself perfectly clear? If necessary, I can speak slower for you.”
Hardy had worked with difficult people in the past; however, Agent O’Neill was taking the word ‘difficult’ to a new level. He was not even attempting to be cooperative. Trying to ease the tension between them, Hardy stuck out his hand. “Listen, maybe we got off on the wrong foot, Agent O’Neill. I’m Special Agent—”
“I heard you the first time,” snapped O’Neill. “I’m not deaf.”
Still fuming about the circus remark, Dahlia launched a verbal blow. “No, stupidity is your strong suit.”
Agent O’Neill was in the process of walking away. He whirled around and glared at Dahlia. “What did you say?” He got in her face and repeated his question. “I asked you a question, Agent…” he paused to find a badge or a nametag. “Who are you? What is your name?”
“I’m a talent agent for the circus.” Dahlia’s eyes moved up and down O’Neill’s body. “Our clown called in sick. Any chance you’re free to take his place for the show? You’d be perfect.”
Charity separated herself from the group, snickering and putting her cell phone to her ear.
Hardy had known men like O’Neill. They possessed inferiority complexes and compensated for their shortcomings by denigrating those around them. They built themselves up by tearing down others. Women were not spared from the attacks. If a woman was disrespectful, she could expect to receive the full force of the man’s temper. The woman standing before O’Neill, however, was no ordinary woman. Hardy knew Dahlia would not take any crap from the man. He had to intervene before the situation got out of hand.
His fists clenched, O’Neill raised his hand and pointed his finger at Dahlia, who already knew how she was going to break his finger if it touched one fiber of her clothing. “You can take your smug attitude and get the hell away from my investigation.” His finger was inches away from Dahlia’s face.
She stared at the finger. Come on, just a little bit closer. She had opened her hands and was waiting to pounce.
O’Neill leaned forward, nose-to-nose with Dahlia. “If I see you around here again, I’ll have you forcibly removed…no, I’ll have you arrested.”
Dahlia took a step back and waved her hand in front of her face. “On second thought, I’ll get someone else to play the clown. I wouldn’t want your bad breath scaring away the children.”
Standing to the left of Dahlia, Cruz’s body went rigid. She studied O’Neill. His face was turning red and the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. She inserted herself between O’Neill and Dahlia. Holding up her hand, she saw Hardy appear to her right. He had stepped between the two combatants. “You put one hand on her—” Cruz stopped speaking, when she heard Hardy’s deeper-than-usual voice.
“And, I’ll make sure you never use that hand again.” He watched O’Neill’s eyes shift toward Cruz before coming back to him. Hardy saw the man’s nostrils flare and his jaw muscles tense. Whether it was on the playground at school or in some hellhole in another country, the dance of two men sizing up each other before a fight always started in the same manner. Hardy slid to his left, boxing out Cruz. He did not want her taking the first punch, or any punches.
Dahlia, preparing to go on offense, had been pushed out of the way by her teammates. Taken aback by their actions, she swung her head left and right, looking at Cruz and Hardy. Having operated on her own for so many years, she had forgotten what it was like to have people stand up for her. Her body would not respond to her mental commands. A lump formed in her throat and she felt butterflies dancing in her stomach. Get it together, Dahlia. Get your head in the game. She shook her head and blinked her eyes.
O’Neill’s long fingernails dug into the palms of his hands, while the muscles in his forearms burned. He could not see his agents around him, but he sensed their eyes upon him. He was not going to be disrespected in front of his people. He flexed his muscles and prepared his body for the fight. Before he could throw a punch or block one, he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye.
Chapter 24: DHS
Charity was holding her phone out toward O’Neill. “Agent O’Neill, there’s a phone call for you.”
Remaining motionless, O’Neill flicked his eyes toward the phone and then leveled them at her. He curled his eyebrows downward before returning to his standoff with Hardy.
Charity lifted the phone higher. “Trust me. You’re going to want to take it.”
After several tense seconds, O’Neill relaxed his body, stood straight and snatched the phone out of her hand. Glaring at Hardy, O’Neill pointed at him. “This isn’t over.” He stormed away, speaking into the phone. “This is Agent O’Neill.”
Charity took a couple steps forward, spun around and faced Hardy, grinning. “Oh, I think it’s over.”
Hardy broke his stare with the back of O’Neill’s head to study Charity. “What did you do, Cherry?”
“While you three were exchanging insults,” she raised her eyebrows at Dahlia before including Hardy and Cruz, “and picking fights, I thought it best to go over Agent O’Neill’s head…way over his head.”
Everyone stared at her.
She motioned toward O’Neill. “Listen,” she said.
Hardy, Cruz and Dahlia trained their ears on O’Neill’s conversation.
/> “Yes, sir, Mr. President...Yes, sir…I understand, sir…No…I will…Yes, Mr. President…Yes, sir—” O’Neill took the phone away from his ear to see the screen. He put the phone back to his ear. “Mr. President?” The Commander in Chief had ended the call without any formalities. O’Neill stared at the phone, while he made his way back to Hardy.
Before O’Neill was within earshot, Hardy smiled at Charity. “Nice,” he said, to which Cruz and Dahlia echoed similar assents.
O’Neill had not stopped staring at the phone. “I don’t know who the hell you people are, but I’ve just been ordered by the President of the United States to assist you in any way possible.” He stuck out his arm toward Charity, her phone in his hand. When she had taken the device, he crossed his arms over his chest. “What can I do for you folks?”
Hardy could see it was taking every ounce of O’Neill’s willpower to be polite. To his credit, he was succeeding. Not wanting the situation to deteriorate again, Hardy was respectful. He pointed toward the building. “Agent O’Neill, I need to get in there and have a look around.” He wagged his finger and examined the scene. “Can you tell me what agencies are here as well as what happened?”
O’Neill motioned with his arm for Hardy and his team to follow him. “Let’s walk. I can fill you in on the way.” He took a few steps, heading for the shop. “I’m with the Department…”
Hardy asked Charity to inform the Hostage Rescue Team to stand down before he caught up with O’Neill. “I’m sorry, could you start over.”
O’Neill nodded and began again. “I’m with the Department of Homeland Security and these are my men. I was told an hour ago that Ashar Yamadi was hiding in this store with two hostages. I got the order to go in, take him out and rescue the hostages, one of whom is the President’s daughter.”
“Was she in there? Do you have her?”
O’Neill shook his head. “Negative,” he said. “My men were met with resistance,” O’Neill paused and got the attention of one of his agents. Lifting up the badge around his neck with one hand, he held up four fingers from his other hand. When the agent nodded, O’Neill finished his sentence. “They swiftly took out the targets. There were no other casualties.”
