by Alex Siegel
"I bet Rat came here to get whatever was inside that envelope."
Ipo nodded. "It's very possible. Min Ho thinks he can figure out who mailed it."
"But there's no return address," Hanley said.
"He sounded confident. Let's keep searching this place in the meantime."
* * *
Marina was lying in bed and feeling very relaxed. Sex with Aaron was always amazing. He knew exactly how to get her going and how to keep her going for just the right amount of time. At the moment when pleasure became frustration, he would bring her to climax.
He was lying beside her close enough for her to feel the warmth from his body. He was still breathing deeply from a vigorous engagement. She knew how to push all his buttons, too. She always left him completely spent.
"I'm feeling increasingly guilty about keeping you here," she said. "Maybe you should leave tonight."
"I'll leave tomorrow," he said, "one way or another. The timing will depend on the status of the mission. This will be our last night together for a while."
Neither of them spoke. There was nothing to say that could make the situation better.
Marina's phone rang. She grabbed it off the nightstand and saw Joshua Harp's number on the caller ID.
She answered, "Hello?"
"My agents found the bodies of the Iranians," the head of the San Francisco Division of the FBI said. "They were exactly where you told us to look."
"Of course. You called to thank me?"
"I suppose so. They were tortured and mutilated. Unspeakable things were done to them."
"What's your point?" Marina said.
"I would like to discuss the case with you face-to-face."
She was suspicious of his motives. There was no good reason for a meeting, and it would probably end in trouble for both of them. On the other hand, he was a very valuable ally. If she could settle him down and keep him on friendly terms, it was worth taking a risk.
"Ghirardelli Square in half an hour," Marina said. "Meet me at the fountain. Bye." She hung up.
Aaron rolled over and looked at her. "You have a meeting?"
"We have a meeting with the FBI. I want you watching my back in case my friend gets frisky. He sounded a little weird."
"The safe choice would be to never speak to him again. Forget him."
"I've never made the safe choice, and neither have you." She kissed him on the lips. "Let's hurry. Parking near Ghirardelli Square is always a nightmare."
Chapter Twenty-one
Bill Burch was struggling to keep his eyes open. He was attending a board meeting at one of his many companies.
One of the vice presidents was giving a presentation. The man droned, "In the last quarter, revenues increased 18% to $123.2 million from $104.1 million. Net income was $3.7 million, or $0.10 per diluted share compared to $3.8 million or $0.11 per diluted share for the same period a year ago. Adjusted EBITDA was $22.5 million for the quarter compared to $20.2 million from the first quarter of the fiscal year..."
A pretty woman in a green dress entered the boardroom and interrupted the meeting.
She hustled over to Burch and whispered in his ear, "You have an urgent phone call, Mr. Burch. It's from a Mr. Hooker." She handed him a portable phone.
"Excuse me," Burch told the other people in the room.
He went out into the hallway and looked around until he spotted a conference room. He went inside and closed the door.
"Yes?" he said into the phone.
"I just saw an FBI report, sir," Hooker said. "The Iranians were found."
Burch sat on a chair. The conference room was painted yellow on the bottom and green on top. A wooden strip ran along the wall and separated the two colors. The comfortable chairs were covered in soft, black leather pads.
"And?"
"They were tortured to death. The report included some very shocking pictures. Animal entrails and acid were used."
"Entrails?" Burch said.
"Apparently," Hooker said.
When Burch had first heard about the missing prisoners, he had suspected the Gray Spear Society was involved, and the creative torture techniques were confirmation. The other Pythagoreans had warned Burch that few people had the strength and courage to withstand a Society interrogation for long. Their cruelty was legendary.
"The good news is the idiots didn't know anything. They were meant to be sacrificed."
"I hope you're right, sir," Hooker said. "What are your orders?"
"Just keep your eyes open."
"Do you know who took the Iranians?"
"You don't need that information," Burch said. "Move on."
"Yes, sir."
"Bye." Burch ended the call.
He sat in silence for a moment. It was hard to admit even to himself, but he was afraid. He had to make a call he had been avoiding.
He took a red phone out of a hidden pocket in his jacket. It used a top-secret technology called the Red Eye Communication System which was absolutely secure. Even the Gray Spear Society couldn't hack it. The design had come directly from a benefactor and was one of the secret weapons of the Pythagoreans.
Burch put his eye near a tiny retinal scanner to activate the phone. There was no way to dial a number. The phone automatically connected to the next Pythagorean up the hierarchy and nobody else.
"Hello, Stingray," a male voice said.
"Hello, Vulture," Burch replied. "I need to consult with you."
"What's the problem?"
"I'm engaged in some ambitious projects at the moment. I'm sure I mentioned the rat control technology at the last meeting. Did I also talk about the desalinization plant?"
"No," Vulture said.
"It could be enormously profitable. Unfortunately, I have reason to believe the Gray Spear Society is nipping at my heels."
Vulture was quiet for a long moment. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"I'm still safe for now," Burch said, "but I might need some help down the road."
"No other Pythagorean will support you unless you prove yourself worthy."
"I haven't done that already?"
"Your audition was impressive," Vulture said, "but now you're asking us to take huge risks on your behalf. A full-scale war with the Gray Spear Society could prove as disastrous as all the times in the past. You're going to have to kill at least a couple of them first."
"On my own?"
"Yes. Then you'll truly be a member of the club."
Burch frowned. "I understand. I suppose that's fair. I'll be in touch."
"Good bye and good hunting."
Burch put the red phone back in its secret pocket. He leaned back and stared up at the tiled ceiling. He clearly needed to draw the enemy into a deadly trap.
An idea occurred to him. It was a very bold play, but half-measures wouldn't suffice. He called Alpert.
"Hello?" Alpert said.
"This is Burch. How is the backup plan coming along?"
"Pretty well, sir. We're on our way to get the tank truck now."
"Good," Burch said. "I may tell my enemy exactly what you're up to."
Alpert paused. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I want you to ambush them and destroy them."
"But what about the plan?"
"Proceed," Burch said. "You can kill two birds with one stone, or lots of birds in this case."
"You're using me as bait."
"Forewarned is forearmed. Just be ready for anything. You'll be up against the toughest adversaries you've ever faced."
Alpert sighed. "I don't like this, sir."
"If the bait isn't something real, the enemy might not bite. They'll have absolutely no choice in this case. If you need more money or resources, go through the usual channels. Find as many men as you can on short notice. I'll grant any reasonable requests you make."
"Yes, sir."
"Your enthusiasm warms my heart. Bye." Burch hung up.
He nodded with satisfaction.
* * *
Ipo's phone rang.
He answered it immediately, "Yes? OK." He pressed the speaker button. "Come over here."
Hanley and Katie gathered around the phone.
"I identified who sent the package," Min Ho said over the phone.
"How?" Katie said. "There was no name or return address."
"The Post Office has excellent surveillance cameras, and the recordings are stored digitally at a central facility. I can access them from my computer here at headquarters. The tracking number told me exactly where and when the package was mailed. I pulled up the video and got a good shot of the man actually mailing it. He was wearing a disguise, but another camera showed him getting in his car, and that told me his license plate number. His name is Jose Roberts."
"Great," Ipo said. "Where is he?"
"Gone. He disappeared one day before Midler was killed. His family filed a missing person report."
Nobody spoke for a moment.
Marina broke into the conversation. "His coworkers claimed he went out to lunch and never came back," she said. "Go talk to them. Get more details. He worked at the Moss Landing Desalinization Plant."
"Never heard of it," Ipo said.
"That's because it's still under construction. Roberts was an environmental safety engineer employed by the construction company."
He checked his watch. "It's getting late in the day."
"Then go!"
"Yes, ma'am."
Ipo, Hanley, and Katie hurried out of the cabin.
* * *
Ghirardelli Square was crowded as usual, but Marina didn't let it bother her. It was too nice a day. Late afternoon sunlight warmed her skin without being hot. A breeze off the Pacific Ocean had a salty scent. Children were running and squealing with delight.
The Square occupied the center of a city block, and stores bordered it on all sides. Tourists were everywhere, but the crowd was particularly dense around a large, brick fountain which featured a bronze sculpture of a mermaid. Red bricks covered the rest of the Square. The world-famous Ghirardelli Soda Fountain and Chocolate Shop occupied the north side, and many people were eating treats they had purchased there. Marina had tried the chocolate on previous visits, and it was good, but the store itself had impressed her more. She had never imagined there were so many varieties. In the back, the store had big machines which actually made the chocolate.
Out of the corner of her eye, she located Aaron. He was standing on a second-floor balcony overlooking the Square. A long, leather jacket covered his weapons.
Other people were watching Marina. They wore casual clothes and were trying to appear nonchalant, but she wasn't fooled. Joshua Harp had brought several other FBI agents with him.
Harp approached Marina with a smile. He was wearing a dark blue suit which was a few grades above what federal agents usually wore. He had blonde hair with a prominent bald spot on top. Black sunglasses covered his eyes, and he had a radio earpiece.
"I see you brought company," Marina said.
His smile faded a little. "Nothing gets by you." He had the raspy voice of a drill sergeant.
"Not usually. What's the problem? I'm a very busy woman."
They moved to a relatively quiet corner of the Square. Marina had chosen the location because she knew the FBI would avoid a fight with so many innocent bystanders around, but it also inhibited her choices.
"You obviously know what happened to the Iranians," Harp said in a low voice. "Who took them? Who killed them?"
"Don't worry. None of your agents were involved. I'm not aware of any moles in the FBI."
"That's not an answer."
"I'm not permitted to tell you much more," Marina said. "I'll also say the Iranians were not responsible for the bombing. The real culprits will be caught and punished. You can sleep easy knowing justice will be served in this case."
He shook his head. "Not good enough."
"It will have to do."
She checked the locations of the other agents. They were quietly forming a perimeter and blocking her avenues of escape. Aaron was getting agitated.
"I was thinking," Harp said. "There aren't too many people who could steal prisoners from the FBI."
Marina raised her eyebrows. "Are you accusing me of something?"
"It's funny how you were able to give me the exact location of the bodies so quickly."
"I'm good at my job."
"And what exactly is your job?" he said. "You've never been very clear on that point."
A group of kids ran past. Melting ice cream cones had turned their faces and shirts into sticky, colorful messes.
After they were gone, Marina said softly, "We had an agreement. You're not allowed to ask those kinds of questions."
"I'm the Special Agent in Charge of San Francisco. I can ask whatever questions I want."
"No. You have three choices. You can trust me and leave this matter alone. I'm not a criminal. Our methods may differ, but our objectives are nearly the same. We serve and protect. Your second option is severing our relationship and never speaking to me again. After the favors I've done for you, that doesn't seem fair, but I'll accept that some friendships aren't meant to be. Your final option is trying to arrest me."
"The choice is obvious," Harp said.
"I have critical responsibilities, and I can't afford to waste my time in a holding cell, even for an hour. If you try to take me, the result will be disastrous for you and your men."
He snorted. "You can't beat the FBI."
"You're sure?" Marina stared at him. "According to you, I can take your prisoners at will."
He tried to appear totally confident, but she could tell it was just an act.
"Just tell me the truth," he pleaded.
"I can't." She shook her head. "You need to have faith in me."
"I gave up on faith a long time ago. I only trust facts and evidence these days."
"Listen. You have to stop asking questions. You'll get yourself into very deep shit. I'm trying to save you."
Harp sneered.
"You live in a comfortable world of rules, regulations, and procedures," Marina said. "Right and wrong are well defined, and everything has a rational explanation. That's not where I live. Horror and insanity are my bread and butter. I've seen things that would give you screaming nightmares for a year. I survive by being the coldest, nastiest, deadliest bitch around, and if you push me, you'll see what I mean. You have to make a decision. Do you want to stay in your world, or do you want to come over to mine?"
He stared at her.
"Trust me," she said softly. "I'm one of the good guys. Have a little faith."
They continued to gaze into each other's eyes. Marina mentally rehearsed what she would do if the FBI tried to arrest her. She would start by using her venom to kill Harp.
Finally, he said, "OK. Maybe I'm nuts, but I'll trust you. I suppose those terrorists deserved what they got."
"Good." She allowed herself to relax a little. "I need to go. They were pawns in a much larger conspiracy, and I have to get to the bottom of it."
"Will there be more violence?"
She nodded. "I wouldn't be surprised."
Marina walked off. She headed for the nearest exit from the Square and quickly reached the street. Heavy traffic crawled in both directions. This part of town was always busy.
She waited impatiently for Aaron to catch up to her. Finally, he appeared with a frown on his face.
"That took a while," he said.
"It was a difficult message to deliver."
"I still question the wisdom of talking to him at all. That situation was on the verge of getting very ugly."
"It will pay off some day," she said. "Let's go home."
* * *
Hanley parked the van in front of the Moss Landing Desalinization Plant. He, Ipo, and Katie stepped out onto the parking lot.
"That's huge!" Katie said.
Hanley nodded in agreement. The plant had five giant chimneys which he estimated were thirty stories tall. The main building was longer than three football fields. Tangled masses of pipes stuck out the sides and top, and they reminded him of an oil refinery. Everything was painted white or a pale blue.
It was almost evening, but construction was proceeding at a rapid pace. Hundreds of men and women in hardhats were hammering, cutting, bolting, and welding. Cranes were moving huge pipes and chunks of machinery around. A continuous stream of cement trucks was passing through the front gate. A big cluster of construction trailers occupied a corner of the vast property.
"They seem to be in a hurry to finish," Hanley said.
"Yes," Ipo said. "We'll go in as police detectives. We're investigating the disappearance of Jose Roberts."
"That's too obvious. If foul play was involved, nobody will tell us a thing. We need a subtler approach."
"He was a safety engineer, right?" Katie said.
Hanley nodded. "Yes."
"Then we're government inspectors checking on plant safety. When we find out Roberts is gone, we'll be shocked and appalled, and then we'll start asking questions."
"Works for me." He shrugged.
"That's fine," Ipo said. "We can always claim to be undercover cops later."
The three legionnaires took turns changing their costumes in the back of the van. They had brought a good selection of clothes as part of their standard mission supplies.
When it was Hanley's turn in the van, he put on a blue, button-up shirt, well-worn jeans, and work boots. He hid as many weapons under his clothes as he could without the bulges being obvious. He took two sets of identification: one for the role of government agent and another for the role of detective. As the finishing touch, he glued on a fake beard.
Hanley hopped out of the van. Ipo had already changed into a casual brown suit with a white shirt and no tie. His enormous size automatically made him an object of suspicion, but nothing could be done about it. Leaving him behind seemed inappropriate. A fake scar on his cheek was certainly eye-catching.
