“Is there anything he might have wanted to take with him?” asked Mallory. “Something that might have kept him here a little longer?”
“Maybe his dangerous animals,” said Mastana. “He might want to take some of them with him.”
“That’s a good point,” said Alton. “I saw the live-animal isolation room in the blueprints. It’s on the second floor, just above the main entrance. But I don’t think he’d stick around just for that. Those animals would be too easy to replace later.”
“Why don’t I go see,” said Mastana, “to be sure?”
“I’m not crazy about sending you on your own.”
“I have this,” said Mastana, hefting the Beretta. “And I am still in my janitor uniform. With all this activity, I don’t think anyone will pay attention to me.”
Alton nodded. “Go. Stay in touch.” He turned to face his wife. “How are you feeling? Good enough to walk?”
She touched her left side and winced. “Yeah. It’s pretty tender, but I’ll live. Why? Did you have a destination in mind?”
“Yeah. Let’s help Silva back into that side hallway first.”
They helped Silva to her feet and swung her arms around their shoulders. Alton’s leg began to burn as they dragged her into a two-person conference room off the smaller hallway.
Alton collapsed into a rigid chair. “The most important thing Safi collected here was information. That’s the valuable commodity. We know his approach to IT security was cutting off all access to the internet. That means to take his research with him, he’d have to retrieve his laptop and take it with him—or boot up his computer and copy the files to a flash drive.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. You’re thinking he’d go to his office, then?”
“Yep. It’s on the third floor. If we hurry, we might catch him before he leaves. Silva, wait here. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”
He and Mallory left the conference room. Alton stopped to pick up Mallory’s body armor vest and hand it to her. “Better put this back on. We’re not out of this yet.”
CHAPTER 84
As they headed for the stairs, Alton tried to raise Kevin and Gilbert on the communication system. Neither answered.
“Maybe the problem is on my end,” said Alton. “Can you hear me in your earpiece?
“Yeah,” said Mallory, somewhat breathless as they trudged up the stairs. “I don’t know what’s up with them. Maybe their earpieces fell off during all the excitement. Or some component was damaged.”
“We can’t wait,” said Alton. “If Safi went to his office, he might’ve already left.”
They reached the top of the stairs. Mallory stopped to grab her ribs, breathless, and the mounting stabs of pain in Alton’s leg felt like electric shocks. But they had to press forward.
Alton consulted the Goldmine’s schematic as he walked. “It’s straight back to the end of this hall. Corner office.”
They padded down the hallway with Berettas unholstered, ready to react on a moment’s notice. Approaching the office, they could see the door standing wide open.
Both hands on his pistol, Alton darted his head around the door, then drew it back. The preoccupied Safi hadn’t even noticed. He had been too busy withdrawing a flash drive from his computer and inserting a new one.
Alton stepped into the doorway. “Found what you’re looking for?”
Safi visibly jumped. He snatched for a handgun lying atop his heavy mahogany desk.
Alton fired. His round hit Safi’s side, sending the man toppling back into his plush office chair.
“Fuck! You shot me!” said Safi, almost in disbelief.
“Yeah, I usually do that to assholes who are trying to draw on me.”
Alton stepped into the room. Mallory followed, her handgun trained on the wounded scientist.
“Alton and Mallory Blackwell,” wheezed Safi, pressing a hand over the sticky pool of blood that had formed on his shirt. He took a deep breath. “I had hoped we’d never meet.”
“I bet,” said Mallory, “considering you had my father killed.”
Safi waved his hand in a circle above his head, then winced at the pain the motion evoked. “He learned…of my work. I couldn’t take the chance…he’d learn everything. It wasn’t personal.”
“Neither is this,” said Mallory, raising her Beretta to shoulder length and pointing it at the man’s head. “I’m just taking one more greedy scumbag out of the world before he kills someone else in the name of the almighty dollar.”
“Wait,” said Safi. “You know you’ll feel guilty if you kill an unarmed, wounded man. Would you want that hanging over your head the rest of your life?”
Mallory hesitated. She lowered the Beretta back down to waist level.
Safi sagged lower in his chair, his pale face taking on a haggard appearance. He sat straight up, wobbled for a moment, then collapsed onto his desk. The man hadn’t had the strength to catch himself. His arms dangled straight down.
“Get up,” said Alton. “We’re leaving—together.”
Safi didn’t raise his head from the table. His breathing had become laborious. “You…shot me…remember? I can’t…even move.”
“Then I’ll shoot you where you are,” said Mallory, stepping closer.
Safi took a deep breath and pushed himself up. His face twisted in the agony of the effort. Yet as he sat upright, the trace of a smile crossed his lips.
The hair on Alton’s neck rose. He tightened his grip on his weapon.
Safi snatched his hand from underneath his desk. He grasped a Glock 20 and swiveled it in the Blackwells’ direction.
Alton and Mallory unloaded their Berettas into the intractable criminal. The force of multiple bullet strikes drove him backwards into his chair and bounced him time and again off its smooth leather.
By the time the firing stopped, both handguns were empty. Safi lay sprawled in his chair with both arms splayed over the armrests. His lifeless head drooped onto his bloody chest.
Mallory’s chin trembled. She walked over to the corpse and used the barrel of her pistol to push the man’s head from one side to the other. A gaping temple wound provided mute assurance of the poisoner’s demise.
“That was for my dad,” she whispered in a voice so faint Alton could scarcely hear her.
Mallory lowered her head and began to weep. Alton embraced his wife. He uttered no words. Rather, he merely held her, hoping this moment would bring some degree of comfort.
After a minute or two, she pulled away and used the back of her hand to wipe her cheeks. “Thanks, Sweetie.” She looked around the office. “Don’t we need to let the rest of the team know we’re done?”
Alton’s voice took on a grim quality. He switched off his mike. “Yes, but we’re not done—not yet. There’s a turncoat in our midst we need to flush out.”
CHAPTER 85
Alton put out an all-call on his mike. “You can stop looking for Safi. He’s been taken out. Let’s meet back where we were a few minutes ago, the hallway outside the lab’s main doors.”
As they walked to the rendezvous point, Alton and Mallory spoke in soft tones. Alton stopped for a couple of minutes to place a call to Agent Vega. He confirmed a suspicion with his NSA manager, then continued on his way. By the time they descended the stairs to the first floor, the plan for exposing Safi’s covert accomplice had been worked out.
The Blackwells approached the meeting spot. They ducked into the room in which they had left the wounded Silva. The agent looked pale but in good spirits.
“I’m glad that guy’s gone,” she said. “Guess his poisoning days are over.”
“Agreed,” said Alton. “Agent Silva, why don’t you stay here? I’ll round up the rest of the team and bring them back in here.”
Silva nodded. The agent seemed relieved to have avoided the burden of walking.
Alton and Mallory continued on to the rendezvous point. The decimated hallway remained a scene of chaos. Bodies, ceiling tiles, and plaster fragments littered t
he floor, and the vague scents of drywall and sulfur permeated the atmosphere.
David was the first to arrive. His face bore a series of scratches.
“What happened to you?” asked Alton.
“Have I ever mentioned it’s a bad idea to chuck a grenade at someone right down a hallway? The floor tile has a habit of turning into shrapnel. Good thing I ducked behind the corner or it could’ve taken my head off.”
Mastana arrived seconds later. She rejoiced at the sight of the trio.
“Anything exciting happen to you?” asked Alton.
“Not really. There are many people running around. They all looked scared. No one paid any attention to me.”
“Good.”
Kevin and Gilbert emerged from a stairwell and joined the group.
“Where have you guys been?” asked Alton as he moved the group back into Silva’s temporary recovery room.
“After the shootout in the lab, I got turned around trying to get back to the first floor,” said Gilbert. “My mike fell off and was crushed during the shootout, so I didn’t have a way to contact anyone. I had to keep looking for the rest of the team.”
“Couldn’t you just follow the noise of the battle?” asked Mastana.
“I tried that, but it’s trickier than you’d think. Every time I thought I’d gotten closer, it grew quieter. I actually think that’s what threw me off.”
“Good thing I found you,” said Kevin with a smile. “My earpiece crapped out right after you all left the IT room. I think the battery died.”
“You were supposed to wait in the IT room,” observed Alton. “You’re injured, remember?”
“Yeah, well, I could hear you guys having a good time, and I didn’t want to miss out.”
“And what about you, Mastana,” said Mallory. “You were supposed to wait there, too.”
“I did stay for a while after Kevin left,” replied the youth. “But then some DTI people came into the hallway outside. I could hear them unlocking the doors, one at a time. I knew once they unlocked the door to my room, they would discover me. My only choice was taking the inventory elevator out of there. Since I had to leave, I thought I would come to the lab to see if you needed any help.”
“And it turned out we did,” said Alton, remembering the head shot she had landed on the armed EG. “Nice work.”
Alton faced the entire group. “Now that everyone’s here, let me get you all up to speed.” He described the events that had transpired in Safi’s office.
“So Safi’s dead?” asked David.
Alton glanced at his wife’s downcast eyes before answering. “Yes. Along with some of the answers we sought.”
CHAPTER 86
At noon the following day, Alton and the rest of the NSA team gathered in Silva’s Alice Springs hospital room for an impromptu celebration.
“How are you feeling?” Mallory asked Silva.
“All right. The docs are pumping me full of pain meds. My biggest problem now is staying awake.”
“If you get tired, let us know,” said Alton. “I’ll take the group outside.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine. After surviving yesterday, I think I can handle a social hour. Any luck tracking down Vaziri?”
“No. The Australian police put out a BOLO, and Vega sent a heads up to his counterparts in Interpol, but I have a feeling she isn’t going to let herself get caught.” He looked around the room. Everyone was present save one. “Let me go get our guest of honor.”
Alton fetched Kevin from the room next door.
The hospital staff had dressed the former guard’s forearm wound with a proper bandage and begun a course of antibiotics. To safeguard against complications, he had been admitted for overnight observation.
The team gave Kevin an enthusiastic greeting when he entered. And rightfully so—the man’s help had proved invaluable throughout the Goldmine portion of their mission.
Alton studied his wife. Her spirits had improved since yesterday, when the closure of Safi’s flight from justice had renewed her grief over her father’s untimely death.
The rest of the team seemed in jovial spirits, even those who had sustained injuries.
“Now that we have everyone here,” said Alton, “I’d like to thank each of you for a job well done. I don’t need to tell you all how much the odds were stacked against us more than once, but you always managed to pull through. If a future occasion called for it, I’d be honored to serve on a mission team with you again.”
“Hear, hear!” said David.
“And in celebration of this moment,” said Alton, drawing forth champagne and a variety of finger foods from a grocery bag, “and in light of Silva’s distaste for hospital food, I’ve brought a little feast.”
The team members chuckled. With David and Gilbert’s help, Alton passed out plastic flutes of champagne and paper plates containing cheese, crackers, and sandwiches of mysterious ingredients cut into small triangles.
“Hey, Mastana can’t have that,” David said as Gilbert began to hand her a champagne glass. “She’s not old enough.”
“Ah, that’s right,” said Gilbert. “Sorry, young lady.”
“Wait,” said Kevin as he turned to face Mastana. “How old are you?”
“I am sixteen. You have to be twenty-one to drink, right?”
“Not here you don’t. Eighteen’s the drinking age. A good thing, too, or your dad would be slapping my hand if I reached for a glass.”
It was Mastana’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “How old are you?”
“Nineteen.” Kevin’s face reddened a bit. “I know what you’re thinking. How did this guy talk DTI into letting him have a guard job at that age?”
“No,” replied Mastana in a quiet voice. “I was thinking how young you are for someone so brave.”
Kevin’s embarrassment deepened. “What about you? Barely old enough to drive, and you were shooting it out with the EGs. Bloody hell!”
Mastana smiled and twisted a strand of hair around a finger. “We both did what we felt we had to do, I think.”
Kevin fell mute, but his eyes told volumes. Alton smiled. The two had fought bravely side-by-side but now acted as self-conscious as any other pair of mutually attracted teens.
After a few minutes of eating and drinking, Alton produced his banquet’s final course, a cake he had picked up from Stuart’s, a local bakery. He sliced the dessert and began handing out portions on paper plates.
When he finished, he faced his teammates. “I hate to break the fun atmosphere, but I have one last piece of news to share.”
“What’s that?” asked Silva.
“As amazing as our success was yesterday, it was even more unlikely than it would appear. I have reason to believe one of our teammates was colluding with Safi throughout the mission.”
CHAPTER 87
“What!” said David. “Are you sure?”
“Sure?” replied Alton. “No. Reasonably confident? Yes.”
“But…why do you think this?” said Mastana, her anxious eyes flickering to Kevin.
“My first insight came two days ago,” replied Alton. “Once that happened, and I started looking back to other circumstances of this case, I felt more certain of my initial suspicion.”
“—that someone’s a traitor,” finished David. “I still can’t believe it. Who would side with a mercenary like Safi?”
“It’s not me. I swear,” said Kevin, his eyes darting from person to person. “I know I worked for the guy, but I had no idea what he was really up to. Nobody did…except the people who worked in the Menagerie.”
Most of the room’s occupants looked on with skepticism.
Only Mastana spoke. “I don’t believe Kevin is the person Alton is talking about.”
“That’s right,” said Alton. “I don’t have any reason to suspect you, Kevin. And your actions over the last two days showed where your loyalties lie.”
“So…?” asked David. “Who, then?”
“Silva,” s
aid Gilbert though clenched teeth. “Vega said you have extensive combat experience. He even said you excelled in undetected movement in and out of an enemy’s position, the exact kind of skill a poisoner and turncoat would need.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Silva.
“Is it?” replied Gilbert. “You’ve had a chip on your shoulder from the very beginning of this mission. You were clearly fed up with the way you’ve been treated in the NSA. We all saw how upset you were when you found out Alton was going to be our team leader. That kind of frustration has been known to change people’s loyalties before. I mean, why participate in dangerous NSA missions the rest of your life when you can cut a deal with Safi?”
Silva turned to Alton with a desperate gleam in her eye. “I know I doubted you at the beginning, but I swear I didn’t work with that guy.”
“I know,” said Alton. He turned to his right. “Nice try, Gilbert. Or should I say Killjoy?”
The toxicologist snorted. “What? You think I was involved with Safi?”
“Yes.”
“That’s crazier than thinking Silva did. I’m a desk jockey, remember? This is my first time on a field mission.”
“Yes, you told me you’ve been in the Washington office for nineteen years—well before the time Cutter Wilson came to you fifteen years ago for help identifying a possible poison manufacturer in Afghanistan.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Cutter Wilson uncovered evidence of Pasha Tech’s operations near Kandahar. He came to you with questions about his discovery, to see if you—the NSA’s resident toxicologist—had heard of this company.
“But you were already on Safi’s payroll at that point. You were the perfect mole. You could keep doing your regular NSA work most of the time but would be there to provide cover for Safi if needed. You’d always be the first to know if anyone became aware of his work at Pasha Tech. If anyone started asking questions, you’d let Safi know. Then he’d take care of the problem…in his own, unique way.
“Once you told Safi about Cutter Wilson, either you or someone hired by Safi had him killed. I’m guessing someone else. Like you said, you don’t have field experience, so pulling off an actual poisoning is something you had no experience in.
Tears of God (The Blackwell Files Book 7) Page 29
