by Jack Mars
Then he left, back the way he had come, up the concrete stairs to the shop floor of the facility. He had to get ready. He was going to kill Rais—and this time, he was going to make sure the man was not coming back.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
As much as Reid wanted to search the rest of the Tkanina building, he hurried out into the night. He reasoned that there must have been some evidence there that the traffickers did not want found, or else they wouldn’t have defended it so vehemently. But his girls were more important right now. That was a job for the police.
He jogged to the parking lot and was dismayed, though not altogether shocked, that the gray taxi was gone. His bag, all his gear that Watson had gathered for him, had been in the trunk. He groaned in frustration and kicked at a rock, sending it skittering across the parking lot.
Headlights blared suddenly from around the corner as an engine roared. The gray sedan screeched to a halt right beside him.
The driver peered out at him. The man was obviously shaken. “You were right, my friend,” he said. “Loud noises.” He’d heard the gunshots, Reid realized, and probably hid the car until he saw Reid emerge.
He slid into the back as the man quickly pulled away. “Thanks for staying.” He passed a hundred-dollar bill over the seat as promised.
“You in trouble?” the driver asked.
“No. Not yet, anyway. But someone else is.” He slid the magazine from the Glock and checked the clip; he’d fired eleven shots so far. Two from the Ruger. Fourteen rounds left between them. More than enough to kill one man. “I need to go to Villa Maya now. As fast as you’re able.”
“You got it.” The driver left the parking lot and the commercial zone, heading quickly for Dubrovnik proper.
Reid buckled his seatbelt and examined his options. The CIA undoubtedly had their eye on Dubrovnik Airport; he was certain they had heard the report of an American man firing at police. Strickland was likely on his way to Croatia, but Reid doubted he had arrived yet. Even if he had, his orders would be to detain Agent Zero on sight.
He had no way of contacting Maria, and he couldn’t very well contact the Croatian police without possibly getting himself arrested. He briefly considered getting in touch with his friend in Interpol, the Italian agent Vicente Baraf, to notify him of Rais’s presence in Croatia. But Baraf was a protocol-abiding agent and his office would want to clear the claim with the CIA, which would only alert Interpol to the now-rogue Agent Zero being in Europe—and that was assuming that Riker hadn’t done that already.
Simply put, he had no allies—he was alone, which was exactly how Rais wanted it.
Although, he thought, maybe there is one person. He didn’t like it, but he needed some sort of security for his girls… in case he failed against the Amun assassin.
“Can I use your phone for a moment?” he asked the driver. “I’ve lost mine.”
“Sure, my friend.” He passed a smartphone over his shoulder to Reid. “Local call, yes?”
“Yeah,” Reid murmured. “Of course.” He dialed the number to an office at Langley, the only contact number he knew by heart.
“Cartwright,” answered the familiar yet harried voice.
“It’s me.”
“Zero!” the deputy director exclaimed. “Jesus, where are you calling from? Are you in Croatia…?”
“Yes. Cartwright, it’s Rais. I spoke with him on the phone. He’s here.”
Cartwright was silent for a long moment. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
Reid closed his eyes. “Yes.” He understood that Cartwright wasn’t talking about Rais; he was referring to Reid calling on an unsecure line at Langley. In just the last five seconds, Reid had essentially gone on the record to admit that he had defied Riker, defied CIA orders, left the country, and pursued the lead on his own. “But there’s good reason. I’ve confirmed that it’s him. You need to pull Maria from Ukraine. It’s her op. I assume Strickland is en route; he needs to know this too. There’s a company here in Dubrovnik called Tkanina.” He spelled it out for Cartwright. “They’re a front for human trafficking. And the supervisor at the cargo terminal, Marko, he’s involved as well.”
“Stop this,” Cartwright said. It wasn’t an order; it was a plea. “Stop now and it might not be too late for you. Strickland is eighty minutes out. I can have Johansson there in two hours, max. Wait for them. Let them handle this. Get your girls back safely, come home, and I’ll help you in whatever way I can.”
“But you can’t make any promises.” Reid was unsure if Cartwright was being genuine in his appeal or just saying what he knew was likely being recorded.
“No,” Cartwright admitted, “I can’t. You’ve already crossed the line.”
Then what’s a little further? Reid thought. He couldn’t wait for Strickland or Johansson to appear. He couldn’t stand idly by and let someone else save the day. Besides, if he gave Rais even an iota of reason to believe that he hadn’t come alone, hadn’t given the assassin what he wanted, he might never see his daughters again.
“I’m on my way to meet him now,” Reid said.
“Kent, that is a monumentally bad idea—”
“I can’t wait for them. Can’t risk it.”
“At least tell us where you’re going,” Cartwright asked.
“You’ll know soon enough.” He had to end the call soon; if anyone was listening in they would be able to track the taxi driver’s phone. But before he did, he had one more question. “What’s happened to Watson?”
“He’s being detained currently,” Cartwright said with a sigh. “Here at Langley. It’s not up to me what happens from here, but it doesn’t look good for him.”
Reid shook his head. John knew what he was doing, what he was getting himself into, but it didn’t make it right. And the fact that Cartwright could have done more, could be helping him at that very moment, was downright vexing.
“I’ll do what I can for him,” the deputy director promised. “He’s my agent. The same goes for you—”
“Not anymore.” Reid ended the call.
He knew what would come next. With the confirmation that he had left the country, he would be officially disavowed by the CIA. Interpol and the Croatian authorities would be notified. Anyone who might have been an ally would now be an enemy.
Doesn’t matter, he thought. The girls were what mattered. Putting an end to Rais was what mattered. Whatever came after would have to wait until there was an after.
He turned the cell phone off, pulled the battery, and handed them both back to the driver. “You’re going to want to leave that off for a while.”
The driver furrowed his brow in concern as he glanced at Reid in the rearview mirror. “My friend… I am beginning to think you are not here for vacation.”
Reid said nothing in response. He looked out the window as the taxi wound through the streets toward the coast, into downtown Dubrovnik. It was a beautiful city rife with history, established more than a thousand years prior as the capital of the Republic of Ragusa. It was one of the most popular tourist destinations on the Adriatic Sea, not only for its charming coastline dotted with orange-roofed villas, but for its famous stone walls that ran for more than a mile around the city on both the landward and seaward sides. The barriers were more than twenty feet thick in some places, a complex system of towers and turrets designed to protect the people from marauders. These days they attracted more than a million tourists a year. Reid had only ever seen them in photos; even now, in the taxi, he couldn’t get a clear view under the night sky.
A seemingly innocent city, Reid thought. A perfect place for the traffickers to use as a hub. People often felt safe visiting big cities, being in public, in a crowd; they didn’t seem to consider how easy it was to get lost in one. How simple it is for a kidnapper to snatch a child or abduct a woman, even in broad daylight, even right in front of other people.
“We are here,” the driver announced as the car came to an abrupt stop outside a low stone wall
lit with orange sconces that surrounded the seaside resort of Villa Maya.
Reid peeled one more bill from his supply of cash. “You picked up an American man at the airport,” he told the driver. “This man did not speak, other than to ask you to bring him here. You did not get a good look at him. You assumed he was a tourist, and nothing more. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand.” The driver reached for the outstretched bill, but Reid held it fast in his grip.
“I need one more favor,” he said. “Do you have pay phones here? Can you get to one?”
The driver frowned, but he nodded slowly. “At the airport, yes.”
“Good. I want you to wait forty-five minutes, and then call in a bomb threat to Villa Maya. Do you understand what I mean?”
The driver hesitated before asking, “Will there be a… bomb?”
Reid shook his head. “No. I just don’t want anyone around for what’s going to happen here. If you do what I ask, no one will get hurt.”
The driver bit his lip before nodding slowly. “Yes. I will do what you ask.” He tugged on the bill again, but still Reid did not release it.
“It’s important. Very important.” Finally he let go of the bill. “Thank you for your help.” He hefted his bag and got out of the car. The taxi pulled away almost immediately, heading—Reid hoped—back toward the airport and a pay phone.
He entered Villa Maya through the open iron gates. It was a high-end resort, wide swaths of manicured grass dotted with trees and private stone-walled villas. Near the center of the property was a larger structure, housing the front desk, concierge, and housekeeping services. Reid meandered casually, scoping the property while trying his best to look like a tourist.
He noticed that the resort was sparsely populated; guests roaming the grounds were few, and those that did were primarily older, almost exclusively a fifty-plus crowd. The sort of people who might not move very quickly in an emergency situation.
Reid took note of the latticework and vines sprawling up one side of the guest services building. The vantage point atop the two-story structure. Behind the building were two large, irregularly shaped pools, each aglow in blue light. No one was swimming at this time of night.
He realized that the assassin might arrive early and attempt to scope the grounds as well. It was unfamiliar terrain to both of them and there weren’t many places to hide. And, Reid couldn’t help but realize, it was a thoroughly bizarre place for their showdown.
Someone is going to die here tonight.
He quickly walked the perimeter, parallel to the stone wall that surrounded the resort. There were three other points of egress besides the front entrance; two were service entrances for staff, both of which were gated and locked. The third was a walkway with a red wooden gate.
If I was Rais… If he was Rais, and he stayed true to his word and brought one daughter as proof of life, he would send her in through the front entrance. She would be conspicuous—but also a distraction. He, on the other hand, would slip in another way to gain the element of surprise.
Reid needed a vantage point from which he could see both the main entrance and this secondary one—which meant he needed to be as high up as he was able. He grabbed up his bag and hurried back to the guest services building, slinging it over one shoulder and making sure the coast was clear before climbing hand over hand up the latticework. With no small effort and some amount of pain, thanks to his aching shoulder and the gash on his left bicep where a bullet had grazed him, he managed to pull himself up onto the flat roof of the building.
From the top of the twenty-five-foot structure he could see nearly the entire grounds of the resort, save for areas bathed in shadow or obscured by trees and villas. He had a clear line of sight to the front entrance and the dimly lit path to the guest services building. He could see anyone making an approach toward the resort center from any direction. He noted with some dismay that he did not have a perfectly clear visual on the red gate at the rear of the property; there was a tree in the way. But he could see directly to the left and right of the gate, and he wasn’t going to find a better vantage point than the flat rooftop.
Then he waited, watching.
Reid’s plan was exceedingly simple. He knew that if Rais was true to his word, he would send one daughter in first, while he entered the resort elsewhere. He would try to elicit an emotional response in Reid—flush him out of hiding by using either Sara or Maya. But Reid would stand his ground, stay in his lofty position. He would be able to see his daughter from up there… and would also see Rais coming.
His failsafe was the bomb threat that he asked the cab driver to call in. As soon as the resort got the threat, they would evacuate their guests and call the police. He was hoping that with the evacuation, none of the guests would get caught in any potential crossfire. He knew that he was risking being arrested himself, but if it meant that at least one daughter was safe and knew the location of the other, it would be worth it.
His other failsafe, most uncomplicated of all, was the Glock in his hand. He wasn’t taking any chances. Rais wanted a fight; he wanted to best Agent Zero in hand-to-hand combat. He had something to prove. Reid had nothing to prove to this psychopath. The only thing that mattered was his daughters’ safety with as little collateral damage as possible.
If everything went according to plan, one of his daughters would appear. The bomb threat would be delivered. The grounds would be evacuated. Rais would attempt to enter the resort. As soon as he had eyes on Rais, Reid was going to shoot him—non-lethally, if he could exercise any measure of self-control—and then obtain the other daughter’s location. The police would arrive, but the truth could be sorted later. The authorities could get to his other girl, and when Maria arrived in Croatia, she would help him.
It was certainly not flawless, but it was simple.
Reid waited. Every minute that ticked by felt like an hour. Every shift of the shadows gained his attention as trees swayed in the gentle breeze or guests roamed the walking paths. They had no idea what was about to happen.
What he wouldn’t have given for a pair of binoculars. Or night vision goggles. Or both.
He checked his watch. If the cab driver came through, he would be calling the resort with the bomb threat in just a few minutes. Yet there was no sign of…
A silhouette appeared at the far end of the dimly lit walkway. Reid squinted hard, unsure of whether or not his eyes were playing tricks on him.
The figure was small, slight framed. She shuffled down the path, barely illuminated by the low-voltage lighting that lined the way to the building and his vantage point.
She had blonde hair. A tie-dyed shirt. White pants, with some sort of pattern on them…
Pineapples. He was sure of it.
Sara stepped listlessly down the path, her feet dragging slowly, her head bowed low so that her chin nearly touched her chest. Reid’s heart surged with the desire to clamber down, to run to her, to hug her close to him and tell her that everything was going to be okay.
He tightened his grip on the Glock. He couldn’t go to her. Not yet.
But it was her, clearly her, his little girl stepping cautiously forward. She looked terrified. Reid bit his lip to keep his eyes from welling. He had to stay focused, to keep his eyes open. This was what Rais wanted—for him to get distracted so that the assassin could get the drop on him.
That’s not going to happen. I’m going to kill him.
He couldn’t go to her, couldn’t even call out to her without giving away his position. He had to stay put, to wait until there was another sign.
He didn’t have to wait long, because a moment later, all hell broke loose.
CHAPTER TWENTY
A sharp, blaring tone rang out over the entire resort, shrill and undulating. Reid winced with the tone; it was emitting from a loudspeaker not far from where he was lying in wait.
He knew immediately what it meant. The bomb threat had been called.
The resort staff
hurried out from the building beneath him as guests crept out of their villas, confused and afraid. Shouts of warning in several languages filled the air, including English—he picked out a few phrases among the din as staff ushered guests toward the front entrance, assuring them that this was not a drill; they were evacuating, and everyone should proceed in an orderly fashion.
He glanced out over the front of the awning again… but Sara had seemingly vanished. Where did she go? Reid crawled frantically over the rooftop, looking over each edge for any sign of her, and saw none; only concerned hotel guests rushing for the exit.
Perhaps a well-meaning member of the hotel staff had spotted her and pulled her away, he thought. Regardless, he had seen her, he was certain of it, and now she was gone. He saw no other choice; he was not going to lose her again.
Reid scrambled over the edge of the building and down the latticework, dropping the last ten feet and tucking into a roll. He kept the pistol at his side as he looked around for Sara. There was still no sign of her. He sprinted around the building, toward the rear of the guest services and the too-blue pools.
His fingers gripped the Glock tightly. He was well aware that he was out in the open now. If the assassin was lurking about, he’d have an opportunity to get the drop on Reid.
Where is she?
The blaring alarm continued as Reid tracked his pistol forward. But he saw no one; the guests and employees had evacuated.
I’ve scared him away, Reid realized. Rais must have known that Reid would have a plan, but he must not have anticipated the noise and the pending police presence. The assassin wanted a fight, just the two of them. He didn’t want an audience and he certainly didn’t want the authorities. He must have run away when he heard the alarm.
As disappointed as he was that he wouldn’t get the chance to kill the assassin, there were more pressing matters to deal with. The police would be there in moments. He had to get to Sara and find out where Maya was being held. Rais might try to double back, to meet him there instead. If Sara could help him convince the police, then an entire force could be there to save his other daughter.
