by Roland Smith
Boone laughed. “I always did like Pat Callaghan. Is he telling the truth?”
“Yep,” X-Ray said. “Looks like that’s how it went down.”
“Let’s go back to last night,” Vanessa said. “Were you watching for Boone?”
“Not specifically. Charlie called me on my cell, not the radio. He said that he had cleared the way for an unknown visitor to the Oval Office. He also told me about the kids being taken down there, but I already knew about that because of the radio chatter. He asked me to keep an eye out for a familiar face.”
“So, you told him about Boone?”
“I did not. I would never give up a current or former NOC agent, even to someone I trust, like Charlie Norton. I told him that I didn’t see anyone.”
“Truth?” Boone asked.
X-Ray nodded.
“I recognized Boone in his cowboy boots and Indian hair from a half a block away,” Pat continued. “I was shocked to see him, but I played it cool when he walked by. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. I figured he’d been the secret guest, and that could only mean he was still in the trade.”
Boone looked at the other members of the SOS team. “What do you think?”
“We could use the help,” Everett said.
The others nodded.
“Finish the interview,” Boone said into his Bluetooth.
“Why do you want to join the team?” Vanessa asked.
“I guess for the same reason your team was formed, if I’m right about what your mission is,” Pat answered. “I joined the CIA to help protect this country, not to play politics. It would be nice to end my service being part of something that actually is helping the country.”
“What can you bring to the team?”
“I can’t say for sure until I know what you’re doing. But I assume that most of you have been out of the trade for a while. I’m still in it, more or less. My resources are fresh, and a lot of people owe me. I’m not above squeezing them if you need tactical intel. As a former NOC agent, Boone doesn’t have these resources because there are only a handful of people in the company that knew he worked there. I operated covert most of my career. I’m still pretty good at tradecraft. And finally, I’d like to actually accomplish something before I hang up my spurs.”
“He’s in,” Boone said, and started for the door.
Before he reached it there was a shout from the interrogation room. Eben and Everett were up in an instant with their guns. Uly threw open the door. Croc ran through. Agent Norton was pointing an automatic at Vanessa, who had a knife in her hand, ready to launch it.
Croc growled and fixed his one blue eye on Agent Norton.
“It’s okay, Charlie!” Pat shouted.
“Drop the knife!” Norton shouted.
“Drop the gun!” Vanessa shouted back.
At that moment Felix came up behind Agent Norton from the hallway and stuck the barrel of his automatic against the back of Norton’s skull.
“You heard the woman,” Felix said.
Agent Norton carefully laid his automatic on the carpet.
Executive Order
“Everyone stand down,” Boone said quietly but firmly. He looked at Agent Norton. “You ever heard of knocking?”
“The door was unlocked,” Norton said. “When I pushed it open and saw the dark room and Pat looking like he was being sweated, I pulled my gun.”
Boone looked at X-Ray and frowned.
“I should have locked it,” X-Ray said. “Sorry.”
“Who are you?” Agent Norton asked.
Boone’s BlackBerry vibrated. He pulled it out. “It’s J.R.” He pushed the answer button. “You’re on speaker.”
“Good,” J.R. said. “How’s everyone doing?”
“Did you send Agent Norton?”
“Yes.”
“How’d you know where we were?”
“I’m always watching,” J.R. said.
“What do you mean?” Boone was clearly not pleased with the situation, nor was he being very respectful to the man on the other end of the line.
“I just told you,” J.R. answered. “Apparently, the only person who’s ever figured this out is Malak.”
Boone looked at his watch. “You put a tracking device in our watches,” he said.
“Bingo,” the president said. “And it’s not to spy on you. It’s to keep track of where my friends are. And the watch doesn’t run on a battery. There’s a miniature generator inside that’s powered by the mainspring. Next time you see Malak, ask her how she knew. You there, Pat?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did they try to recruit you?”
“Past tense,” Pat said. “I’ve been recruited.” He looked at Boone and the others. “At least I think I’ve been recruited.” Boone and the other SOS members nodded.
“Negative,” the president said. “You still work for me, but Ty is your boss.”
“No way,” Boone said. “That’s not how I work.”
“Hold on, Ty. Hear me out on this.”
“I might as well,” Boone said, “since you just compromised us by leading Agent Norton here.”
“Charlie’s working for you too,” the president said. “After I left you today, I did some thinking about this. If Pat figured out something was going on, there must be a lot of others digging around. Someone’s bound to stumble onto your operation, and it might be the wrong person. Instead of being the hunters you could become the hunted, either by terrorists or the federal bureaucracy. I’m not sure which one is worse. The other problem you have is that you have no legal authority. A couple of Service badges will get you into anyplace you want to go, along with the letter I gave to Charlie before I sent him after you.”
Agent Norton reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope.
“The problem is,” Boone said, “we don’t exactly go by the book. I hate to break it to you, but we break the law on a daily basis. Sometimes several times a day. We play by terrorist rules, which means we have no rules. You’re asking two Secret Service agents, sworn to uphold the laws of the United States, to violate their—”
“Let me finish, Ty,” the president interrupted. “I’ve put Pat and Charlie on special assignment directly to me. Their boss screamed bloody murder, but I reminded him that he served at my pleasure, and that if he didn’t have the paperwork together by the end of the day, he’d be serving across the street in Lafayette Park, where we currently have a vacancy.”
Pat and Charlie both smiled at this.
“You have too much exposure,” the president continued. “And so do I. If people want to speculate about where I’m getting my intel, let Pat and Charlie take the heat. Their presence will divert attention from SOS, give you some breathing room, and at the same time give your team some legal authority when you need it.”
“Malak was insistent that no federal agency get involved in this,” Boone said.
“Malak Tucker’s alive?” Agent Norton blurted out. “That’s impossible. I was flown in to identify the body at Independence Hall.”
“She’s alive,” Angela said.
“And she’s not going to like this,” Boone added.
“Charlie and Pat were two of her closest friends when she worked the White House,” the president said. “That’s why I chose them. They were on the same sculling team.”
Pat nodded and smiled at Angela. “We called ourselves the Scull and Crossbones. I can’t tell you how happy I am that she’s still with us.”
“What happened?” Charlie asked. “Why’d she let us think she was dead?”
“She’s not quite herself,” Boone said. “We’ll talk about that later.”
It wasn’t my place to say anything, but I couldn’t help myself. “What about plausible deniability?”
The president laughed. “Is that you, Q?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s a good point. Bringing Pat and Charlie into this leaves me wide open. But as we discu
ssed earlier, I don’t care. Even if legal action is brought against me, which wouldn’t surprise me, it would take months for them to figure out exactly what I did. I would hope by then the ghost cell would be gone and the country would be safe.”
“Your legacy,” Boone said.
“Then they’re in?” the president asked.
Boone looked at the other members of the SOS team, including Angela and me. We all nodded.
“Charlie’s not in yet,” Boone said to the president. “He has to pass our little test. If he doesn’t pass…”
“Shoot him,” the president said.
“Thanks, Mr. President,” Charlie said.
Pat put his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Here’s a tip. Don’t lie.”
“Where are we going?” Malak finally asked.
She and Amun had been moving around downtown for more than an hour and a half. They had been in four taxis, two buses, and several stores. Amun was not usually this cautious about being followed.
They were being followed by Ziv, but with Malak’s tracking device he could keep his distance and there was no way Amun would spot him.
“We’re about ready for your surprise,” Amun said.
The surprise again. This had Malak worried. Amun was not a surprise kind of guy.
Amun looked at his watch for about the fiftieth time since they had left the car in the parking lot. This had her worried too. Amun rarely looked at his watch.
“Are we on a schedule?” she asked.
“Yes,” Amun said. “And it’s time.”
Malak followed him across the street to an old but well-kept apartment building. Amun pulled his baseball cap down, opened the door with a key, and walked through with his face turned away from the security camera inside. Malak followed suit but wondered why Amun was taking this kind of precaution in a private building. Homeland Security did not monitor apartment building cameras. In fact, there was a good chance the old camera in the lobby was just for appearances.
After years of running, stalking, and hiding, Malak’s intuition had been honed to razor-sharp claws. The Leopard sensed the stench of trouble in the air. Something bad was going to happen. She was rarely wrong.
Amun took the stairs instead of the elevator. As Malak fell in behind him she reached into her pocket and pressed a button on a special cell phone. If she were ever searched it would look like the battery had been pulled and the SIM card was missing. A dead phone. But it was far from dead. It was her lifeline to Ziv, programmed to dial only one number—his. They used the phone only for dire emergencies. Malak pulled her necklace out from under her blouse. Hanging on the chain was a golden angel and a golden leopard. Inside the leopard was a miniature Bluetooth microphone. Ziv would now be able to hear everything that was being said. She hoped he was nearby.
“So what’s this all about, Amun?” Malak asked teasingly. “It’s not my birthday.”
Amun looked back at her and smiled. “I don’t even know when your birthday is. Do you?”
“It was celebrated on February second,” she answered. “But of course I doubt that was my real birthday.”
“Mine is June thirteenth.”
“I suppose birthdays don’t matter when you don’t exist,” Malak said, wondering if June 13 was Amun’s real birthday. He had never talked about his childhood or his parents. She didn’t know if he had been adopted like her and Anmar, or if he had been raised by his biological parents.
“True.” Amun stopped outside a steel fire door.
Malak acted out of breath, which she wasn’t—she was in top physical condition.
“Whew,” she said. “If I’d known it was nine floors up, I would have suggested we take the elevator.” This was for Ziv’s benefit, so he would know what floor they were on.
Malak took off her jacket as if she were hot after the climb. The real reason was to have quick access to the backup pistol stuck in the waistband of her jeans, right at the small of her back. As she followed Amun down the hallway she untucked her blouse to make sure it concealed the small automatic.
Amun stopped in front of a door. “Are you ready?”
“How appropriate,” Malak said, staring at the number on the door. “Nine-eleven.”
“Pure coincidence,” he said, and knocked on the door.
A shadow appeared at the peephole, and then the door was swung open by an older man with a smile on his face. He wrapped his arms around Malak and gave her a bear hug. Malak had never seen him before in her life, and she hoped he couldn’t feel how fast her heart was beating against his barrel chest. He pulled her into the apartment.
Sitting on the sofa was an older woman. She stared at Malak. She was not smiling like Amun and the old man.
“This is not my daughter,” the woman said.
Oh my God, Malak thought. These are Anmar’s adopted parents. She tried to remember what the real Anmar had told her about them.
“Of course this is Anmar,” the man said. “Look at her! Her hair is different and she’s aged, but who hasn’t?”
“There were twins,” the woman said flatly, her dark eyes neutral but fierce. “Girls,” she continued. “Identical. Where is my daughter?”
“What are you talking about?” Malak said. “I don’t have a sister. I was an only child. I’m your daughter. You raised me. Your name is Elise.” She looked at the man. “Your name is Sean. We lived in a house just off Northeast Halsey in Portland, Oregon. We had a dog named Alfredo.”
Malak was stalling. She knew it was only a matter of time before Elise asked her a question about Anmar’s childhood that she would not be able to answer.
“I told you this was Anmar!” Sean said.
Elise’s expression did not change. “Tell me where you got Alfredo,” she demanded.
Here we go, Malak thought. She looked at Amun, who was no longer smiling. “What a lovely surprise,” she said sarcastically. “You bring me here to get the third degree from my parents. What were you thinking?”
“Right now I’m thinking about twins,” Amun said. He looked at Elise. “Tell me about them.”
“As I said, there were two girls. Identical. I saw them at the Beirut hospital where they were born. I arrived first, so I got to choose first. I always wondered what happened to the other girl. Now I know. Who are you working for?”
“I’m working for the same people you work for,” Malak answered indignantly. “Why didn’t you tell me that I had a twin sister?”
“Because I did not raise you. Now tell me where you got the dog. If you are Anmar you will know.”
“Go ahead and tell her,” Sean said. “Get this craziness over with.”
“You know what,” Malak said. “I don’t think I will tell her.”
Malak had no idea where they got the dog, but she did know that there was no love lost between Anmar and Elise. Anmar despised the woman who had raised her, and it was clear by Elise’s cold stare that the feeling was mutual.
Malak looked at Amun. “I will not be subjected to this. It’s insulting. I’m leaving.” She turned to the front door and disengaged the deadbolt.
“Wait,” Amun said.
Malak looked back. “I assume that we’ve been given a mission. I know you meant well, Amun, but this is a waste of time. Are you coming?”
Amun looked at his watch—again. “We’ve already completed our first mission. I brought you here to get our second mission. Elise and Sean are my handlers.”
Malak had been waiting years for this moment. To take the ghost cell down she had to find out who was running it. She doubted Sean and Elise were in charge, but they were one step closer to the top. She cursed her bad luck having them as the next rung up the ladder.
“What was our first mission?” Malak asked, turning around to better conceal the gun under her blouse.
“The car,” Amun answered.
That was why he had been checking his watch so often. The car they had left in the parking structure must have a bomb in it. Malak wondered why Amun
had passed up so many empty spaces, choosing instead to park midway up on the fourth level in the center of the structure.
“When?” she asked.
“Two minutes.”
“And that, whatever your name really is,” Elise said, “was your last mission.” She took a gun from a beneath a pillow on the sofa and pointed it at Malak’s chest. “Is she armed?”
“What are you doing?” Amun asked.
“Taking care of a problem that you should have discovered.”
“Are you sure, Elise?” Sean asked.
“Positive. Step away from the door,” she said, motioning Malak to the left with the barrel.
“This is a joke, right?” Malak said, stepping to the side. “A training exercise.”
“You will not be laughing in a few hours,” Elise said. “I don’t know how you stepped into Anmar’s place, but I guarantee that you will tell us.”
Elise turned to Amun. “Where does she keep her gun?”
“In her pack,” Amun answered.
“Take it.”
Amun yanked the pack from Malak’s shoulder along with her jacket, then roughly pushed her into a chair—the worst possible position for her to reach for her spare gun.
He dumped the pack out onto the sofa.
A pistol fell out with a suppressor screwed into the end of the barrel. Elise exchanged it for the gun she was holding. “Sean, get my kit. It’s in the bedroom.”
Sean went into another room.
“Amun,” Malak said. “You can’t be buying into this?”
Amun ignored her and looked at Elise. “What do you want to do?”
“That is up to your friend. I can shoot her with this gun, or I can shoot her with the hypodermic needle Sean is preparing. It’s entirely up to her. We have a van parked in back. Sean?”
Sean did not answer.
An explosion rattled the building.
“Sean?”
Ziv stepped out of the bedroom and shot Elise and Amun.
Car Bomb
The hotel shook. A window cracked, scaring me and Angela half to death. The SOS team acted like it was the twelfth explosion they’d gone through that day, and that included the two new members, Charlie Norton and Pat Callaghan.
