by L. T. Ryan
“We have to get to the airport,” Bear said. “Flight leaves in three hours.”
Pierre nodded. “Guess he didn’t want us to spend any time on our own in the city.”
“Can’t blame him. We’re a liability to him. We screw this up and it’ll be a huge mess.”
“Why’s that?”
“This stuff, it isn’t exactly in their typical scope of work. That’s why he’s using us and not his own guys. That’s why he used Jack to take out Foster. There’s no justification. Word gets out that he’s mixed up in this, or anything they contract out, and it’s his ass. He gets a little leeway, of course. But only so long as it stays out of the public eye.”
Pierre stopped and grabbed Bear’s arm. A man bumped into Pierre’s back and cursed at him for stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. Pierre glared at the man but didn’t react beyond that.
“What?” Bear said.
“Should we be concerned?”
Bear flashed his passport folder at Pierre. “I doubt I’ll be using this on the flight back home.”
Pierre nodded with a look of understanding in his eyes.
“Yeah,” Bear said. “You get it now, don’t you?”
The Frenchman didn’t reply. He stared ahead, eyes fixed on the skyline. Bear hoped he hadn’t spooked Pierre. He needed him to successfully complete this job. After that, Pierre could do whatever he wanted as far as Bear was concerned.
“Don’t worry,” Bear said. “I’m overly cautious, that’s all. As long as we do the job, we can trust Frank.”
“I hope so.”
Me, too, Bear thought. After all, he knew getting Mandy back hinged on Charles’ life being taken.
4
Jack leaned against a large tree in the northeast corner of Lincoln Park. Behind him he could see the traffic moving steadily on 13th and East Capitol St. In front of him he had a view of the entire park and those passing through. As soon as Rico appeared, Jack would see him. Only problem was he had no idea who Rico was or what the man looked like. He kept an eye out for anyone in a suit with close cut hair and the look. The all-knowing paranoid look that Jack and others in the intelligence community had about them.
A man approached from Jack’s left. He had dark hair, cut short and speckled with gray. He wore dark sunglasses and a navy colored suit. He was medium height with an athletic build. The guy could take care of himself, Jack was sure of that. He walked slowly and cautiously. His left arm moved. His right arm didn’t. His right hand stayed close to his waist.
Jack unzipped his jacket and let it hang open. He kept his hands by his side. He stared at the man as he approached. Nodded. The man nodded back and started toward Jack. When the man was close enough, Jack said, “Rico?”
“Yeah.”
The two of them faced off for what felt like minutes but in reality was only a dozen seconds or so.
Jack felt his heart rate quicken. Beads of sweat formed on the back of his neck. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that Frank might be setting him up. Perhaps Rico wasn’t an associate. Perhaps he was an assassin sent to take Jack out. But would he do it in the middle of Lincoln Park in plain daylight?
“Who are you?” Rico asked.
“Nobody important.”
“How’d you get my name and number?”
“An associate passed it along. Is Rico your real name?”
Rico ignored Jack’s question. “Who is your associate?”
“I’d assume he’s been in contact with you recently.”
“Does he work for the SIS?”
Jack nodded.
“What is it you want?” Rico asked.
“I’d assume you already know.”
Rico lifted his sunglasses and rested them atop his head. He looked to his left, then his right. His hand rested on top of his holstered pistol. He stood just six feet away from Jack. Far enough away that Jack might not be able to hit him before he fired, and close enough that the man would be deadly accurate with his weapon.
“You’re really Jack Noble?” Rico said.
Jack took his time answering. He knew that there were people that considered him a criminal and wanted to place him in a reinforced cell three hundred feet below ground. Finally, he nodded and said, “Yeah, that’s me.”
“Do you know the mess you created with these documents?” The look in Rico’s eyes conveyed a mixture of betrayal and anger.
Jack nodded slowly. “You could also look at it like I did you all a favor.”
“How so?”
“Think about where those documents were heading before I intervened.”
Rico shook his head. He squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.
“Who do you work for, Rico?”
The man placed his hands on his hips, pulling his jacket back as he did so. His pistol was in full view. “I’m NSA.”
“What about before that?”
“Special Forces.”
Jack smiled. They had some common ground. “Me, too,” he said.
“I’ve read your jacket, Noble. I know all about you.” He didn’t seem to share Jack’s enthusiasm. “You and I are nothing alike.”
“Let’s cut the bravado,” Jack said. “I want to make this right. I want to get the documents back and get whoever sold them in the first place. Are you going to help me? Tell me what you know.”
“I know enough to get you started on the right path.”
“Why can’t the NSA handle this?”
“Even a group as secretive as ours has to answer to someone. You don’t. You get the intel back and take the mole out and it just looks like someone was hit. No one has to know anything else.” Rico paused a beat and then lowered his voice. “We do it and there’s a paper trail.”
The words were enough for Jack to get the big picture. It had to be someone important. Someone that people paid attention to. If the truth got out it would be damning to the country. He understood his true purpose.
“Who is it?” Jack asked.
Rico looked around then turned and waved his hand. “Come with me.”
Jack hesitated. He still wasn’t sure about the man and his intentions, although he trusted Frank and Rico a little more than he had fifteen minutes ago.
“Come on, Jack. I won’t talk here. Not out in the open. Never know who’s watching.”
“I think we’re fine here,” Jack said.
Rico stopped and walked toward Jack. He stopped a foot away. “Look across the courtyard. See the man in the jeans, fanny pack and the bright green sweatshirt?”
Jack shot a quick glance at the man Rico described. Turned back and nodded.
“He’d love to know that it’s Jack Noble standing here. And he’d take you in and that would be the last anyone ever heard from you.”
“Lead the way.”
They exited the park to the east and turned left on 13th Street. Walked north and made a right on Constitution Avenue.
“So who is it?” Jack said.
“Who is it what?” Rico said.
Jack held out his hands. “Come on, work with me.”
“Do you want to know who sold the documents or who stole them?”
“Both.”
“No names until we get to my car.”
“Where’s that?”
Rico pointed aimlessly down the road. “A few blocks away.”
“The suspense is killing me, Rico. At least give me a clue.”
Rico stopped and turned toward Jack. “Can I trust you?”
Jack shrugged. “That’s your call.”
“The thief is a fed. Maybe one of my own. Only a few people knew about the documents. I had them in my possession and I stored them someplace safe. No one had access to them, but that doesn’t mean someone didn’t figure out a way.” He paused, then added, “Obviously, someone did.”
“Why do you say maybe one of your own?”
“There were only three people that knew about the intel being back in our possession. But
they really didn’t know what was leaked. So unless someone contracted one of them, it doesn’t make sense. At least not to me. They all check out too. Alibis and interrogation. All three of them check out.”
“Yet you say maybe.”
“I don’t trust anyone, Jack.”
“You and I might end up getting along after all,” Jack said.
Rico smiled and seemed to let his guard down for the first time. “We’re going to have to. You’re my partner for the next few days.” The smile faded and he snapped back into agent mode. “Obviously, whoever stole them knows what they’re getting.”
“Or were directed by someone who knows,” Jack added.
Rico nodded. “Right.” He started walking again. “And who, besides us, knows how critical the information is?”
“I’d guess the people that were willing to pay for it in the first place.”
“Yeah, but they don’t know we have it in our possession.”
“Had.”
Rico frowned.
“Sorry,” Jack said. “Reflex.”
“It’s fair. I can handle the criticism.”
“So who is it?”
“Who would be in a position to know this kind of stuff, Jack?”
“You said only three of your people knew. What about your bosses?”
“Now you’re getting there.”
“You think it was someone in the NSA?”
“No.”
Jack said nothing. He started to think of people beyond the NSA that Rico would report to.
“Come on,” Rico said. “Keep talking it through.”
“It’d have to be someone pretty powerful. Someone kept up to date on all matters of national security.”
“That’s right.”
“So we’re talking maybe the head of an agency?”
“Or?”
“Or the head of a government.”
“Not quite that high, but close.”
“Shit.”
“You can say that again,” Rico said as he pulled his keys from his pocket. “This is the garage. You wait out here. Cameras everywhere in there. I don’t want to be caught on surveillance with you.”
“I’m a ghost. Ghosts can’t be filmed. Don’t you know that?”
Rico shook his head and said nothing.
Jack looked up and spotted a camera fixed to the building, pointing directly at them. He didn’t mention it. “Anything else before you go in? I want to see if I can figure it out before you pull through the exit.”
“The Pentagon.”
“The Pentagon?”
“I think that’s where our mole works.” Rico followed the sidewalk next to the building and stepped past the jersey wall at the entrance.
Jack watched from outside as the man walked through the garage. His opinion of Rico had changed quite considerably since they met. The man turned out to be a lot like him.
Rico stopped in front of a late model luxury sedan. The dark garage prevented Jack from making out the model, but it was big and bold and masculine. His eyes met Rico’s and the man nodded slightly and ducked into the car. Jack turned to face the street and then the world got hot and loud and turned upside down. He wasn’t sure what hit him first, the heat or the noise or the violent blast wind that knocked him off his feet and threw him into the street.
The explosion left him disoriented. It was only instinct that allowed him to bring his arms up to protect his face and head as he barreled through the air toward the faded black asphalt. He landed on his right forearm. Felt the flesh tear from his knuckles and wrist. Pain traveled through his arms. He heard tires squeal around him as traffic came to a halt. He forced himself to his hands and knees and looked back at the garage. Orange flames peeked through the black smoke that poured through every opening in the garage.
Another explosion ripped through the garage. Jack dropped to his stomach, covering his head with his arms. His senses recovered and he knew he had to get to his feet. There had to be a couple hundred cars in the garage. Each loaded with fuel, meaning there would be more explosions.
He took one last look behind him, then began to move away. He tried to run, but his right leg wouldn’t allow him to. He looked down and saw his pants shredded below the knee. Blood soaked his leg. Had he taken shrapnel to his leg? He pushed the thought from his mind and continued moving away from the garage. Turned right at the first cross street.
Safe from another blast, Jack leaned back against a brick building. He caught his breath, then bent over to assess the damage to his leg. No bones protruding. No metal penetrating. His knee and leg were scraped from when he hit the asphalt and skidded across the street, but the damage was minimal.
Sirens echoed off the buildings that surrounded him. Police cars and fire trucks and ambulances approached from every direction. Not wanting to be seen in his condition by the police or rescue personnel, Jack opened the first unlocked door he found. He stood in the lobby of an apartment building. Glanced around. Found it to be empty.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Decided against calling Frank and reached out to Jasmine instead. She answered on the second ring.
“Jasmine, it’s Jack. I need you to come get me.”
“Where are you?”
“That’s a good question.” He looked around and found three rows of mailboxes. Read off the address to Jasmine.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” she said.
“I’m inside.”
“I’ll find you.”
5
Clarissa sat at a table in an empty coffee shop on the Georgetown Pike in McLean, Virginia, about five miles from Langley. Sinclair had told her he spent most of his time there now as opposed to their field training location in Newport News, Virginia. None of them were a fan of being under the Langley microscope, but sometimes it was necessary. Or so he had told her.
For now, though, he was late and she was finishing her second espresso.
She glanced over her shoulder at the bored barista who leaned over the counter while reading a magazine. The woman didn’t look up or even seem to care that there was a customer in the cafe. No wonder Sinclair had chosen this location, Clarissa thought.
A car pulled up. Clarissa craned her neck to see Sinclair’s Audi A8 park in the handicapped spot near the front door. He stepped out of the car with his briefcase in hand and walked to the entrance.
She tensed. He could be carrying anything in that briefcase, including weapons. It was a matter of whether the weapons were meant for her to do her job, or if they were simply meant for her, to take her life. She relaxed as she regained control of her thoughts. Eventually her rational side won out. No way Sinclair would endanger himself by trying to pull off a hit like this. If anything, he’d send Randy. Her eyes instinctively darted back to the vehicle to double check for any passengers. She saw none.
Sinclair stepped into the cafe and smiled at her. She smiled back, remaining seated. He walked to the counter where the barista looked at him with indifference. Clearly she was annoyed at having to shelve her article and serve a customer.
Clarissa checked her cell phone while waiting. No messages. She had made sure to give Jack her number before they landed, yet he hadn’t called. No point in worrying, she thought. He’s got his own mess to deal with. They’d be together soon enough. Hopefully for a lot longer than this one mission.
Sinclair placed his cup and then his briefcase on the table. He sat down. Took a sip of coffee.
“It’s good to see you,” she said.
He nodded and smiled. “You too. I heard things got a little iffy in Russia.”
She tilted her head and shrugged.
“Friend of a friend told me,” he said. “No biggie. You made it out alive.”
She spent five seconds trying to figure out who Sinclair might have spoken with. Jack might have mentioned it, but Frank and Sinclair were not on speaking terms, so that wasn’t it.
“I’ll save you the time,” he said. “I
t was Marco, the man who brought you the guns. He also helped Jack and the woman find you.”
“Tell him I said thanks.”
“You can tell him next time you see him.”
“Hopefully that’s never.”
“Never say never, my dear.”
Clarissa said nothing. She drank the rest of her espresso, then got up and ordered another. The woman behind the counter seemed close to voicing her displeasure, but instead made the drink without saying a word.
Clarissa returned to the table and sat down.
“This whole thing is a mess,” Sinclair said. “From what I gather, the documents are missing again.”
“Missing?”
“Missing,” Sinclair repeated. “Or stolen. However you want to look at it.”
“Who stole them?”
“We’re not sure. We think it’s an agent. Not one of ours. Only so much we can do, you know. No one looks kindly on the CIA messing around on the domestic side. We get a little leeway of course, as long as we keep it quiet.”
“You’re the CIA,” Clarissa said. “I’m just a contractor.”
“And the reason we are able to be involved in such a situation.”
“So is that all you’ve got?”
“We know that whoever took the documents originally is not in the CIA.”
“Who are they with?”
“No solid leads yet.”
“Really?”
“That’s what sources say.”
“What sources?” she asked.
“A few people we are, um, questioning at the moment.”
“You’re questioning them?”
“Yes.”
She shuddered. “Christ.”
“If they know, we’ll get it.”
“Is that all you brought me out here for?”
He slid the briefcase across the table. “ID, passport, a spare phone, two weapons and some cash. If things go badly, I want you out of the country immediately.”
She nodded. Unlatched the locks and opened the briefcase. Everything was as Sinclair had described it.
“Check in with me after you speak with Noble,” he said. “I want to hear what he has to say.”
“Me too.”
6
“Where are we headed?” Bear asked.
