“Are you kidding me?” she said with the proper tone of incredulity. “After everything I’ve gone through—because of you—if you expect me to just willingly waltz out of here with you, you’ve gotta be cr . . .” She hesitated.
Craft was crazy, so calling him crazy probably wasn’t a great idea. On the other hand, for someone who was schizophrenic and delusional, he was the most rational sounding and centered man she had ever met.
“Are you searching for the word, crazy?” said Craft, grinning.
Alyssa nodded reluctantly.
“Don’t worry. You’re safe with me. And nothing you say or do will change that. Especially not calling me crazy. Believe me, I’ve been called worse.”
Alyssa smiled despite herself, but she quickly forced this unwanted expression from her face.
“You know,” said Craft, “there’s a mischievous part of me that could really have some fun with this. But you’ve been through a lot, and we don’t have time. So let me make this very simple for you. I don’t mean to boast, but I’m really good with computers. And if you’re as good as I am, if information is on a computer, you can get at it. So I’ve read your Major Elovic’s report back to his superiors.”
Alyssa barely managed not to gasp. Just the fact that he knew Elovic’s name and position in the agency hierarchy was stunning.
“Major Elovic is using you as bait,” continued Craft calmly. “He had a long-range transmitter implanted in your thigh, which your abductors found and removed, judging from the location of your injury and Elovic’s inability to find you. And a digital recorder disguised as a mole, glued under your ear. Which I suspect you activated during your recent encounter.”
Craft paused. “You were also given orders to cozy up to me and gather intel. In fact, the major couldn’t really order you to do it, but his report says that he suggested, strongly, that you sleep with me.”
The hint of a smile crossed Craft’s face but he quickly suppressed it. “So I know you’re willing to come with me,” he continued. “Because you’ve been ordered to do so. Now, you had no idea I knew this. So it makes sense that you’d want to stay in character, put up a fight—play hard to get. But we really don’t have time for this. Your people and the cops will be here soon, as I’ve said. I’ve hacked into the hospital computers while you were out and changed your room number. So anyone trying to crash the party will be looking for you in an empty room. But still, we have to go now. We’ve overstayed our welcome. I’ve made sure the computers won’t alert the nursing staff when you remove your IV, so we should be able to slip out of here without any trouble.”
Alyssa stared at him open-mouthed. Who was this guy?
Craft didn’t wait for her agreement. He moved closer to her bed, gave her a reassuring look, and gently removed the IV from her arm.
“So I’m going to turn around,” he said. “And if you could change into the clothing I brought you as quickly as possible, I’d really be grateful. Okay?”
Alyssa nodded. “Okay.”
Craft looked relieved. He quickly turned his back to her as he had promised.
“But here is the good news,” he called over his shoulder while she changed. “I plan to tell you anything and everything you want to know. So you’ll be getting all the intel you were looking for. And because of you, I’ve secured my place in heaven,” he added in an amused tone.
“What does that mean?” she asked on cue.
“It means that a beautiful woman I’m extremely attracted to—and not just physically—had instructions to sleep with me to get information. And I’m going to just give her the information. With no strings attached. Despite the devil on my shoulder pleading with me to do otherwise.” Craft paused. “Now if that doesn’t get me through the pearly gates” he added with a grin, “nothing ever will.”
20
Alyssa kept her head down in case any of the nurses might recognize her, although since they weren’t expecting her to be up and about, or dressed as she was, the chances were small. Even so, Craft assured her that her face and figure were memorable, although he allowed that this was probably more the case with males than females.
As they pulled out of the lot, a police car pulled in, and Craft suspected they were arriving to interview the Jane Doe they thought was still in the hospital.
The car Craft was driving was a rental. A black Ford SUV that Alyssa decided was the size of a battleship. “I thought you liked Mercedes-es,” she commented, trying to decide how to make it plural. Mercedi? “Or was that more of a Theo Grant thing?” she added pointedly.
Craft grimaced. “I am Theo Grant,” he said. “Or to put it another way, I was totally being myself the other day.”
“Sure you were,” said Alyssa.
“Okay, I lied about a few things. But you weren’t exactly straight with me either. We both know you don’t really work for IU, or just on human behavior.”
Alyssa shot him a look of disgust. “Really?” she said. “You really think this can justify your actions? That’s pathetic. You lied about your name and background, but more importantly, your intentions. Yes, I lied also. But I’m prohibited by US law from disclosing my research. Research that is supposed to be,” she added, glaring at him as she emphasized these words, “eyes-only.”
Craft frowned. “You’re right,” he said softly. “That was pathetic.”
Alyssa wasn’t sure how he would respond, but this wasn’t what she had expected.
“So let me try again,” continued Craft. “Yes, I disguised my name and background, but what you saw of my personality, and my interests, was real.”
“And your intentions?
“Obviously I wasn’t just a guy who randomly found your profile online. Yes, I did have long term intentions different from what I let on. But my intentions, with respect to Saturday, were real. I was hoping we could get to know each other and see if we connected.”
Alyssa considered this and decided to return to the point she had originally been trying to make. “So why the SUV . . .” She trailed off, not comfortable addressing him by name.
“Bren,” he said, picking up on this hesitation. “Please, call me Bren.”
Her face must have betrayed her distaste because he quickly added, “I know it’s a little familiar under the circumstances, but I’d really appreciate it. I’d love for us to, you know . . . bond.” He flashed an easy smile. “Doesn’t mean we’re married or anything,” he added with a light tone.
Alyssa blew out a long breath. The idea of being on a first name basis with this man was repellent to her, but she had been ordered to cooperate with him, after all. “So why the SUV . . . Bren?” she repeated. “Wouldn’t a smaller car blend in better?”
Craft laughed. “We can only be spotted the old fashioned way—by a pair of eyes. So I’m hoping anyone looking for us will think the same way you are.”
Interesting strategy. Counting on those searching for them to overlook such a bold choice. Hidden in plain sight.
“And both of us are off the grid right now,” added Craft. “It wasn’t just your people I’ve misdirected. Your face will no longer trigger any notices through facial recognition algorithms.”
Great, thought Alyssa. She was supposed to cooperate with Craft, but she was also supposed to be broadcasting her whereabouts continuously.
“Can I assume you recorded your encounter with the men who took you?” asked Craft.
Alyssa shook her head. “I didn’t get the chance.”
“Come on, Alyssa, I know you don’t trust me. But these were dangerous people and they could have killed you. I need to listen to your interrogation so I can better understand our situation. And be in the best position to deal with it. It’s for your safety as well as mine. And you’re far too smart not to have recorded it.”
Alyssa sighed. He did make some good points. “Okay,” she said. “You can listen. Why not?”
Craft pulled off the road into an abandoned lot and parked behind a building, out of sight o
f the street.
Alyssa pressed twice against the mole on her neck in rapid succession, and explained to Craft that the bug was transmitting, and his phone was within the ten foot range required to pick it up as a wireless network choice. She wouldn’t have been all that surprised to learn he had already read the spec on the device and was well aware of this.
Craft found the bug as an optional network on his phone, selected it, and Alyssa gave him the username and password information to log on. Less than a minute later the recording was loaded onto his phone.
“I won’t play this out loud,” he said softly, inserting small wireless earbuds into his ears. “The last thing I want to do is put you through it a second time. So feel free to close your eyes and rest while I’m listening. I’ll let you know if I have any questions.”
Alyssa nodded, relieved. She hadn’t realized how much she was dreading listening to this nightmarish encounter a second time. The fact that Craft had considered this, even when she had not, showed that he was a thoughtful man, even when he wasn’t operating under false pretenses.
21
Tariq Bahar, Al Yad’s head of military and intelligence, had paid Tom Manning, the over-muscled sadist who had helped him interrogate Alyssa Aronson, and they had parted ways. Bahar hoped he wouldn’t need his services again. While Manning radiated such a clear air of being a cruel psychopath that no one was more intimidating during an interrogation, he was repugnant and couldn’t be fully trusted.
Bahar wasn’t surprised that Alyssa Aronson had jettisoned the electronics he had implanted in her clothing, but these were red herrings anyway. This was far too important to rely on electronics only. So he had put an Indian born American mercenary named Santosh Patel on her tail. Tracking her, not with electronic transmitters or street cameras, but the old fashioned way. On foot, so to speak.
Sometimes the old ways really were the best, reflected Bahar. Santosh Patel had waited patiently for Aronson to be found by the river bank, and made sure he knew to which hospital she had been taken.
This girl was the only connection they had ever discovered to a man Al Yad had been obsessed with finding since Bahar had known him. Brennan Craft. Al Yad would follow this girl to the ends of the earth if there was even a remote possibility she could lead him to the man he was desperate to find.
Al Yad seemed to feel he was in an epic struggle with Craft. That it was a clash of titans. The Hand of God against Satan incarnate—Shaitan in Arabic. Shaitan had done a miraculous job of staying in hiding.
And as much as Al Yad seemed to despise Craft, he was the only man that his boss had ever respected. Apparently, Craft had some of the same . . . abilities . . . that Al Yad had. Which would make anyone take pause, weather these abilities were conferred by Allah, as was the case with Al Yad, or by the devil.
And then Craft had arrived at the hospital!
Bahar was on a layover in London, during his return trip to Syria, when Patel had contacted him with the news. Patel had texted him a photo of Brennan Craft entering the hospital.
Tariq Bahar couldn’t believe his eyes.
Brennan Craft himself. Shaitan. “Speak of the Devil,” he had said in English, proud that he could construct this play on words in his second language, which he spoke more eloquently than most native speakers.
Once visiting hours were over for the night, Patel had placed a motion-activated electronic camera pointed at the lighted entrance to the Emergency Room, reasoning that any visitors would need to sneak into the hospital from this point, since it was accessible 24/7. Craft had arrived at the hospital at three in the morning, Kentucky time, which Patel had discovered when he retrieved the camera upon waking three hours later.
Patel had truly earned his pay this time, thought Bahar.
He had immediately instructed the mercenary to activate his team of mercs, each paid handsomely to drop everything and prepare for action. They had all managed to catch up to Patel near the hospital with all of their gear only minutes before Brennan Craft and Alyssa Aronson had left.
And they had left together. Not only that, Patel had reported the girl seemed to be leaving with Craft willingly.
Bahar knew he had missed something when he had interrogated Alyssa Aronson. Something big. She and Craft had obviously been in communication or he wouldn’t have known where she was. She had managed to pull the wool over his eyes somehow, which wasn’t easy. He had been so sure he had managed the interrogation flawlessly, but obviously he hadn’t.
One of the recent converts to Al Yad’s cause was an expert at conducting, and interpreting, lie detector tests, using the most advanced polygraph equipment available. But Bahar had completed only a few training sessions with the man and was not yet ready to use this technology.
If Al Yad realized just how immense a failure the interrogation had been, he would be furious, and Bahar might soon find himself a dead man.
But the Great One had not been furious upon learning of Craft’s visit to the hospital, and his subsequent departure with the girl. He had been ecstatic. And Al Yad had just called Bahar back, and seemed to be, if possible, even more jubilant. He had finally had the chance to listen to Bahar’s interrogation of Alyssa Aronson, and had been very happy with it. Instead of the wrath Bahar expected, he had been congratulated. And then Al Yad had radically altered his orders.
Bahar had initially been instructed to have Santosh Patel and his team maintain surveillance, until they could trace Shaitan back to his base of operations. But Al Yad had changed these orders. What could The Great One possibly have heard during Alyssa Aronson’s interrogation that had altered his thinking so dramatically?
Bahar was furious that he wasn’t in position to be a part of the action, but Al Yad hadn’t wanted him to be in any case, telling him he was not expendable like his hired hands. So while he would not return to The States, he also would not be continuing on to Syria. He would remain in London, where he would direct proceedings.
Only a few minutes after ending the connection with Al Yad, Bahar gathered himself and put in a call to Santosh Patel. “Give me a status update,” he ordered in his elegant, soft-spoken English.
“Craft has pulled into a lot,” reported Patel. “Out of sight of the road. And he and the girl have just been sitting there for almost an hour now.”
“You’re sure they’re still there?” said Bahar anxiously. “That it’s not a ruse? Perhaps they detected you following.”
Bahar had already dodged a bullet, but if they screwed this up, failed to deliver the Great One’s prize, his chances of living out the week were very small.
“I’m sure,” said Patel. “And they didn’t detect us.”
Bahar sensed the mercenary was insulted by the question. Not that he cared.
“You had me activate four other members of my team for a babysitting mission,” Patel reminded him. “My men are all in different cars, in different locations, with me as central command. With five of us tracking them, coordinating switch offs, they’ll never detect us. And there is no way we lose them. Not with this kind of manpower.”
“Conference your team in on this call,” said Bahar
He waited impatiently as Patel did so and the members of the team reported in one by one. When all five were on the line, Bahar began. “I have new orders,” he said. “This is no longer a surveillance mission. It has become more . . . active.”
Tariq Bahar paused. “In short: I want Alyssa Aronson. Bad. And I want her alive. Repeat, she must be taken alive. I don’t care what you have to do to get her. But there are some special instructions, so pay careful attention.”
Bahar considered how best to phrase things. “First,” he continued, “you won’t be able to take Craft down no matter what you throw at him. So you’ll need to attack them, get them separated, and then take the girl. The moment you catch them somewhat isolated, mount your attack. But don’t wait too long. If you haven’t seen a good opening within eight hours, attack anyway, even if they’re in public. This i
s that important. Each of you confirm you heard me clearly and understand these instructions.”
Each did as he asked in turn. When they had all acknowledge the orders, Santosh Patel said, “I need to point out that mounting an attack like this in public is very risky.”
“Bring me the girl, alive, and I’ll pay each of you five times your usual rate.”
There was silence on the line for several seconds, and Bahar could imagine each of the five mercenaries drooling over their phones.
“This seems fair,” said Patel finally. “Please continue.”
“Good. But just so you know, getting the girl will be as difficult as anything you’ve ever done. This is important, so I’ll repeat myself. You’ll need to create a diversion so she separates from Craft. And when you grab her—make sure Craft is so distracted that he doesn’t see you do it. Listen very carefully,” he insisted. “The moment you let Craft see you, you’ll be unconscious or dead.”
Bahar paused for a moment to let this register with the five mercenaries. “Let me repeat that,” said Bahar. “The second Craft gets a line of sight on you, he’ll take you out. Period. Even if he’s seeing you through binoculars. So if he turns in your direction, you better be sure you’re not in sight at the time.”
“I don’t understand,” said Patel. “And I’m sure I speak for my entire team on this. You said binoculars, you didn’t say sniper scope. If he’s looking at us through binoculars, how will he possibly be able to get off a clean shot?”
“I need you to trust me on this,” said Bahar. “He won’t need to shoot you. Just see you. He has a new weapon. One you’ve never encountered before.”
“A weapon that takes anyone out, the second he sees them?” said Santosh Patel skeptically.
“Take my word on this one. If you doubt me, send one of your men to test it. Let Craft see him. And see how long he remains standing.”
There was another silence on the line. “That won’t be necessary,” said Patel finally. “We’ll take your word for it. But this will complicate the mission.”
Quantum Lens Page 11
