by Liliana Hart
“Possibly. Bennett used the CIA courier service to have a package delivered to London. I don’t know what was in it, but it was signed for by an Edgar Harris.”
“What do you have on Harris?”
“Not a damned thing. On the surface Harris is a forty-four year old financial investor with a prosperous business, Worthington Financial Services, LLC¸ located on Chapel Street. He’s divorced with no children. Pays his taxes. Makes twice yearly visits to another home in the south of France.”
“What are you not telling me?”
“I had one of my men put the business under surveillance. The place is more secure than Fort Knox. It’s a hell of a setup, and it made my Spidey senses tingle, so I’ve had my men following Harris to see what he’s been up to. He flew in on his private plane from a location that was undisclosed, and I couldn’t get hold of the pilot to try and persuade him to tell me the location. Most of Harris’s employees are former military intelligence, so they’re always on the lookout.”
Kimball grabbed a muffin from the basket in the center of the table and tossed it all into his mouth, scattering crumbs across the table and his shirt.
“Harris knew he was being tailed, and his driver lost my men, but I already had the address Bennett sent the package to, so I sent them on to do surveillance and watch the comings and goings. It turned out my Spidey senses were right. My men emailed me a couple of photos late last night.”
Sloane took the photos from Kimball and stared at the two men leaving the financial firm. “Should I recognize them? Which one is Harris?”
“I don’t know, but I ran their photos through the database and got a hit. Jack Donovan is the second man. He’s a recently retired Navy SEAL commander. Served two tours in Afghanistan and was in charge of all the VBSS missions after 9/11. He’s a damned war hero and has gotten every commendation imaginable. He’s been a guest of the President twice. All of his classified files have been encrypted by someone outside the CIA. I have one of my men working on it.”
“Interesting that he’d relocate to London. What’s he doing there?”
“No clue. After he retired from the service, he fell off the grid. Traveled around a little, then seemed to decide on London. His mail is sent to a private post office box. But he has no physical address that I can find. His family lives in Texas, but he doesn’t get home often, though he does keep in touch with email.”
“Did Donovan know Frank Bennett?”
“Oh, yeah. The SEALs loaned Donovan out to the CIA on several occasions. Frank Bennett was always the DDO—Deputy Director of Operations—of record. And from what I could find out, they were also personal friends.”
“What about the second man?”
“No fucking clue. I can’t find a likeness anywhere in any database. He doesn’t exist.”
“Not good,” Sloane said. “He’s got to be government of some kind to disappear like that. For now keep your sights on Jack Donovan. Maybe have your men detain him for questioning.”
“How much do you care about keeping Donovan alive?”
“I don’t want him dead. Yet. Just do what you have to do to get him to talk. I want to know what was in that package Frank Bennett sent. If it’s what I think it is, then I’ve got a big problem.”
“I’ll keep digging on the mystery man. Eventually, someone will know who he is. I may have to go up pretty high on the food chain to do so.”
Sloane knew what Kimball was asking. Higher up on the food chain could include heads of state and five-star generals. Kimball would only have to break one of them to get the answers he needed. And Sloane knew from experience that Kimball was very efficient at getting information.
“Do what you have to do,” Sloane finally said. “I’ll clear any paths for you if you need me to. There are a lot of people who owe me favors. They’ll keep quiet and should cooperate.”
Kimball nodded and left. Sloane took another sip of coffee and looked at the photos of Jack Donovan and his companion. Frank Bennett hadn’t been a stupid man. He’d only send sensitive information to the person he trusted the most. Sloane just had to find out who that person was.
“Peters,” he called out.
“Yes, sir?”
“Cancel all my meetings. I need to work from home this morning.”
“Anything else, sir?”
“Get the President on the phone.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Kuwait
“My contact knows me as Amir Shahzad,” Gabe said as he loaded a large black case in the back of the Jeep. He covered it with a tarp and got behind the wheel. Grace finished loading bottles of water under the seats and slid in beside him. Her hair was covered with a long black scarf—a hijab—and she wore a loose white shirt, khaki cargo pants, and lightweight boots that were made for traveling over sandy terrain.
“Do you trust him?”
“My contact? Absolutely not. He’s a merchant in the city and is bought easily enough. Our arrangement has worked out so far, but he’s a businessman.”
Gabe slipped sunglasses over his dark brown eyes. Between the contacts and his beard, he was pretty damned uncomfortable. Like Grace, he wore desert-colored cargos and a white linen shirt. He was grateful for the loose black turban that hung over his head and protected him from the blistering sun that shone like a ball of flame in the cloudless blue sky. It was going to get a lot hotter before they got where they were going.
Gabe put the Jeep in drive and they left Kuwait with minimal fuss, heading across the border with the fake IDs that had served him well during his days with the CIA. “We’ll be given shelter for the night once we arrive in Abadan, and then we’ll leave to find Tussad once the city sleeps. They have imposed curfews because of the bombings, so we shouldn’t have to wait too long.”
“Won’t your contact find it strange you’re bringing a woman with him?”
“Not necessarily.” Gabe felt her stare, but he kept his eyes on the treacherous road as they bumped their way over the mountains and closer to the city. They still had another four hours to travel by car before they reached the entrance to Abadan. If he was a weaker man, he would have blushed under her gaze. He knew that look better than anyone. And he knew it meant trouble.
“So he’s used to you bringing women with you when you visit?” she asked, her voice calm even as her eyes spit green fire.
“It helped with my cover. It’s been three years since I last saw him.”
“You mean you were bringing strange women with you here while we were still married?”
“Dammit, I told you it was part of the cover. It’s not like I slept with any of them. Believe me, I’ve never for one second forgotten that you are my wife.”
“I was your wife,” she said.
Gabe didn’t bother to correct her. It probably wasn’t a good time to mention he’d never signed the divorce papers. As soon as they’d been delivered, he’d promptly shredded them and gotten rip-roaringly drunk. It hadn’t been one of his finer moments. But he was still married in the eyes of the law, and that’s all that mattered.
The sun was quickly fading, and its heat pulsed in waves of bright orange off the sand, making the tiny grains shimmer like glass and the barren land before them waver like a picture going in and out of focus. They were fortunate the scorching days were tempered by cool nights, and that they’d brought plenty of water. The desert wasn’t forgiving to those who weren’t prepared.
The rest of the drive was made in silence as they traveled farther and farther into hostile territory—both of them had their pistols ready on their laps. When the transition from day to night passed, they both pulled on their night-vision gear, their attention never wavering from the numerous hiding places the mountains provided.
“I’ve got something,” Grace said. “Two o’ clock, about a hundred and fifty yards ahead.”
“I see him. That could be Kareem. He’s a little heavier than the last time I saw him, but the posture is right.”
“I don’t
like this, Gabe. There are too many good places to hide in these mountains. We might as well have targets on our foreheads.”
“Where would you go if you were going to pick us off?” Gabe asked.
Grace looked her options over and pointed to the left. “Up that steep ridge there. I’d have visibility of anyone coming or going through the pass.”
“Keep your eyes in that direction. I’ll keep watch in front. My contact has a submachine gun slung over his arm, and he’s ready to use it.”
“The merchant business must be rough. Tell me what my cover is.”
“You’re my American wife, of course.” Before she could sputter out a refusal, he said, “Pretend like you can’t understand what we’re saying and hide your weapon. He won’t expect you to have one.”
She did as she was told for once, shoving the gun in her black duffel bag, but not before shooting him a vicious glare. “You’re going to pay for this.”
“I can’t wait.”
A stream of Kurdish came in their direction. “Is that you, my friend, Amir?”
Gabe answered him back in the same tongue. “It is, my friend Kareem. Salaam alaykum.”
He slowed the Jeep to a stop beside a plump man dressed in black slacks and an oversized olive-green canvas jacket. The man’s hair was thin on top, but a thick beard peppered with gray covered his face. They clasped hands affectionately.
“How are you, Kareem?”
“Not well, my friend. Come. I will take you to my home and tell you all about it.” Kareem ignored Grace as he climbed into the Jeep beside her and pushed her closer to Gabe.
Gabe followed the desert road several miles before there was any sign of civilization. The town was just a shadow of what he remembered it being. “What happened here?”
“Abadan is too close to the border. There were bombings more than a year ago, and most of the people fled inland. Some left the country altogether. My wife and youngest son were killed. The rebuilding is slow, and it is even slower to repopulate.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Kareem. Your wife was a faithful woman. Has your business suffered much?”
“Your words are kind, my friend. My business has suffered greatly, but I’ve managed to find my way.”
Gabe drove slowly through the deserted streets as Kareem gave instructions to his home. Businesses and houses of pale colors with traditional flat roofs passed by. Trees were scarce and those with money seemed to be even more scarce, but he noticed as they pulled onto Kareem’s street that the merchant was obviously doing very well for himself.
The wind was high, and dust swirled around them as Gabe parked the Jeep to the side of a house made of smooth white stone. It was two solid stories and had a balcony on the upper level. The downstairs windows were large and square, and covered with heavy drapes to protect from the sun. It was larger than most of the other houses on the street and had a row of palm trees flanking each side.
Gabe grabbed both his and Grace’s belongings, and they followed Kareem inside. A young girl of about fifteen opened the door before they reached it.
“This is my daughter, Sarala. She will show you to your room and provide you with food and drink. I’m sure you’re famished after your journey. We will speak in the morning about why you’ve come.”
“I’ll look forward to it, but don’t trouble yourself providing us with food and drink for the night. We can wait till morning.” Gabe said.
“I insist, my friend.”
“Then I give you my thanks.”
Kareem nodded and disappeared down a long hallway, and Gabe ushered Grace up the stairs behind Kareem’s daughter. She was small, and she kept her eyes lowered as she opened the bedroom door for them.
“Tell your father thank you for the offer, but my wife and I are really much too tired after our travels to eat tonight.”
She nodded silently and closed the door behind her, leaving them alone. Gabe held his finger to his lips and warned Grace not to say anything. She nodded and unwrapped the scarf from around her head.
The room was lovely, decorated in shades of gold and cream and white. A large bed, covered by a white comforter threaded with gold, sat low to the ground, and two beautifully carved wooden chests flanked each side. The finely woven rug on the floor was the only color in the room—a jewel-toned red.
Gabe upended the backpack he carried on the bed while Grace checked the room over. He stuffed extra magazines in the pockets of his cargo pants and tossed a couple to Grace so she could do the same. He put a backup piece in his ankle holster—a 9mm Ruger—and a seven-inch blade in a sheath that fit around his thigh. His double shoulder holster had two Sig Sauer SP2022s fully loaded and ready to go. He wrapped a circle of wire loosely around his hand and slipped it into his jacket pocket.
Grace was already outfitted with her own weapons and waiting for him in the bathroom. He turned on the shower and she turned on the sink. He drew her into his arms in an easy embrace and ignored the stiffening of her body.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered against his neck.
He breathed in the scent of her hair and couldn’t help his body’s reaction. The adrenaline running through his veins only intensified it. “I’ve got a bad feeling. Something seemed off with Kareem. I want to go now and flush out Tussad.”
“Do you know how to get to him?”
“Kareem said he’s staying with his sister, but I don’t believe it. I had Ethan check CIA records before we left, and it shows Tussad has a brother-in-law and a cousin who own property in Abadan. The brother-in-law has a wife and five children under one roof, so it isn’t likely he’d be staying there. The cousin has been missing for the last eight months, but someone is still paying his bills. We’ll start there and hope we get lucky.”
“How far? Will we need the Jeep?”
“It’s less than a mile down the road. We can run it.”
She nodded and tried to pull out of his grasp, but he didn’t let her go. She looked up at him with wary eyes, and the feel of her against him was so right that he couldn’t do anything but kiss her.
“For luck,” he said, and lowered his mouth to hers.
He kissed her at each corner of her mouth first before tasting her full bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. Her breath hitched, and her mouth opened, and Gabe couldn’t resist the temptation. Her lips were soft and moist, and he groaned as her tongue gently rubbed against his own. This wasn’t the frantic mating of mouths from the night before. This was remembering. And savoring.
Gabe pulled away slowly, pleased to see the dazed look in her eyes. He leaned around her and reached to turn off the faucet, but his body pressed more into hers and she let out a small whimper. He wanted to whimper himself as she pressed back against him, but he held back from tempting himself even more.
She inhaled an unsteady breath before ducking under his arm to turn the shower off, and Gabe felt the loss of her warmth immediately. He went to the window and pushed back the heavy curtains that insulated the room against the hot afternoon sun and muttered a curse.
“What?” Grace whispered.
Gabe pointed to the window and the iron bars that covered it. They had no choice but to go out the front. He dropped the curtain and went to the door of their room to listen for movement in the hallway. His weapon was in his hand and he eyed Grace as she moved into an automatic position to cover his back. He unscrewed the doorknob so it fell off in his hand, and the door opened soundlessly. He caught the doorknob on the outside quickly before it fell to the wooden floor.
The hallway was deserted, and he moved like a ghost through the house and out the front door, Grace shadowing his every move.
“Do you think the bars are to keep us in or others out?” Grace asked as they took cover behind the house next door.
“I don’t know, but we’ll assume the worst.” Gabe pulled out his GPS and looked at their position. He pointed to the west side of town and said, “We’ll take cover every twenty feet just to be safe. If Tussad is
there, we’ll do whatever necessary to flush him out.”
“And if he isn’t?” Grace asked.
“Then we’ll gather more intel and try again. I won’t go back on my word, Grace.”
She nodded, and he closed his eyes, letting the adrenaline rush through his body, and he opened his senses. The night was quiet, but that was to be expected of a town so sparsely populated. The air was cool, and it wouldn’t be long before the excitement of the chase stopped warming their bodies and they were left shivering in the desert night.
They ran in short, silent sprints. The farther they ran, the less evidence there was of the well-kept, prosperous city of Abadan. This part of the city had been abandoned after the bombings. Homes and buildings were no more than ruins. Cars lay on their sides or crushed under large slabs of rock. A mosque was completely intact from the front, but as they ran around the side they saw the entire middle had been torn apart. And just as some of the buildings were completely destroyed and had no hope of repair, there were others that stood perfectly intact.
This was the part of the city people had decided to forget. They’d taken what was left of their belongings and moved to the other side, where they could pick up their lives and move on. It was the perfect place for someone like Tussad to lie low for a few days.
The GPS vibrated in Gabe’s pocket, and he signaled to Grace to take the opposite side of the small white rock house. It was no more than a shack really. Barely standing a few inches over six feet, the roof was made of rushes tied together and packed with mud to keep out dust or rain. The hum of electricity was nonexistent. There was nothing anywhere to indicate any kind of life inhabited the premises.
Gabe signaled with his hands again to Grace, and she nodded with understanding. They’d go around opposite sides and meet at the back of the structure.
“There’s no one here,” she said disappointedly as they came back together.
“No,” Gabe agreed. There were chinks missing in the mortar, and it hadn’t been difficult to peek in and see no one was hiding inside. It was hardly more than one large open room. “Let’s go inside and check it out.”
