The Consultant
Page 29
“Okay, Oscar. I understand.” I clipped the Mark 1 kit to my belt. “What about Mo Nassar?”
Before he’d dropped the sarin bombshell on me, I’d told him about Nassar and his connection at Kevin’s crime scene and the sheriff’s office. He’d avoided comment and immediately offered me tea, cookies, and sarin gas.
“Leave Nassar to me.”
“That’s what you told me the other night. What are you going to do with him?”
“Immaterial. He is a small fish seeking promotion. He’s an irritant and nothing more. Focus on your mission.”
That was about as nice a “mind your own business” as LaRue ever offered.
Something tickled my brain. “Oscar, one of Kevin’s informants, a Russian immigrant named Edik Petrov, reached out to me. He told me that Khalifah isn’t the real threat.”
“He is correct.” LaRue lifted his chin. “Tell me all he’s told you.”
I did and it wasn’t much. “He’s going to call me with more if we will protect him.”
“Make the deal. Then complete your mission. Quickly.”
“Oh, you mean my mission to find Khalifah and figure out what he’s up to? Or the mission to hunt down Caine and Saeed and his band of Iranian IRGC goons? Or the mission to locate the sarin nerve agent before they attack and stop it?”
LaRue smiled. “Yes, it is really that simple.”
CHAPTER 66
Day 5: May 19, 2245 Hours, Daylight Saving Time
Fool’s Lake, Virginia
SAM MALLORY WAS nowhere. Nowhere I could find, anyway. It was late when I finished with LaRue, and after another hour hunting for Sam, I decided to check the cabin. Noor hadn’t heard from him yet and she was terrified. With some luck, he’d gone to Fool’s Lake for the same solace I’d found at his age.
Unfortunately, I was wrong. The cabin was empty. I was just about to call Noor again when a key turned in the front door. I was on my feet with my pistol ready before the door clicked. It’s a good thing I didn’t shoot first and ask questions later.
Victoria Bacarro slinked in the door. “I knew I’d find you here. Just like Kev. Always running away to sulk.”
“You have a key?”
She held it up. “Yep. But then, you figured that out a while ago.”
I nodded.
“Got any bourbon?”
I shook my head in a lie. “Victoria, unless you’ve found Sam, I have to go.”
Her face flushed instantly, and she stared at me as though I’d thrust a spear through her heart. “Sam will turn up. He’s a kid. He’ll be fine.”
“You’re right, Victoria,” I said, gesturing toward the door. “He is a kid, and he’s scared and angry and hurting. What’s wrong with you?”
She looked down for a long moment before she turned and locked the door, tossed the key on the fireplace mantel, and dropped into the couch across from me. When she did, I noticed two very unusual things about her. First, her face was red and tear-streaked in the dim light. Second, her eyes held more than sadness—they held need.
Crap, and me without a conscience.
CHAPTER 67
Day 6: May 20, 0015 Hours, Daylight Saving Time
Fool’s Lake, Virginia
MY LUCK WITH women could be summarized with one word. None.
On one trip to Germany, I fell in love with a beautiful Bulgarian maiden. She turned out to be married to a very jealous diplomat with two bodyguards. What the bodyguards lacked in humor, they made up for with muscle. Thankfully, those bones have healed. Three years ago, it was Amira. She was a lovely girl from Qatar. She once told me that she thought about me day and night. Much to my regret, she was also a Syrian agent who tried to kill me—twice. So much for being on someone’s mind.
Like the IRGC being in Winchester, women mystify me.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Jon,” Victoria shouted. “It’s not my phone!”
Wow, if this was foreplay, I’d been in the desert too long.
After locking me into my own cabin, Victoria ended up on the couch with a glass of bourbon. After a long few minutes of silence and half her drink, I stupidly asked about her calling Kevin the night he was murdered. She denied it again. Then I hit her with burner phone discovery. That’s when lightning struck.
The rant began.
“Polo asked me the same thing.”
Polo? Not Artie or Agent Polo? Just Polo. “I saw the phone printouts, Victoria. What are you hiding?”
She slammed back a full mouthful of bourbon and refilled the glass. She wandered the living room and the sizzle in her eyes told me she was trying to calm down. Then she downed the new bourbon and threw the empty glass into the fireplace.
“Damn you, Hunter.”
What did I do?
She crossed the room and grabbed me by the shirt. She was crying and looking down at nothing. “Damn you. You’re so much like Kev but so damn different, too. We were in love. At least, I thought we were. I was. You and Noor and Polo think I killed him? I set him up? Why would I do that?”
As always, I fumbled. I just stood there and finally slipped my hand onto her arm and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Tell me about the burner phone, Victoria, and the call.”
“There was no goddamn call. No phone.” She pulled her arm away but didn’t retreat. “Why won’t you believe me?”
Oh, I don’t know. Evidence?
She burst into tears and went to the front door. She stood there with one hand on the handle and the other over her eyes. Her body shook as the tears rained down.
“Victoria? What’s wrong? What aren’t you telling me?”
She turned, dropped her face into her hands, and wept openly. “What’s wrong? My career is over, Hunter. Get that? Over.”
Yeah, it probably was. “I’m sorry, Victoria.”
“I don’t care,” she cried and lifted her face to me. Her eyes were sad and swelled and her voice quivered. “The only man I’ve gotten close to in years was a bad cop and now he’s dead. Now you’re here and you remind me of him with every word. I know I have to let go. Dammit.”
“It’s all right.” I moved beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Forget Artie and this mess. I understand about Kevin. I do. It takes time.”
She fell against me with her cheek on my shoulder. “No. There is no time, Jon. I’m all out of time. I just need to forget. Just for a little while. I hurt so bad.”
“I know.” No, I didn’t. I didn’t know anything, and I stepped away from her when the warning bells went off. “Victoria, I don’t think—”
“Jon, I just want to forget. Just for a while.”
Victoria looked at me as she undid her blouse buttons, showing a taut, tanned belly. Her bosom was full and round and had pushed the silk away in the dim cabin light. Her chest heaved and her eyes locked on me. With slow, almost unperceivable movements, she came to me and crushed herself tight, forcing my hand to slip her blouse away.
I say forced because I don’t want any misunderstandings. The next few hours I might be a captive of a beautiful, alluring FBI agent who used her wiles and superior training to their fullest. I was powerless to resist. I tried. Dear God, I tried.
Truly.
CHAPTER 68
Day 6: May 20, 0600 Hours, Daylight Saving Time
Washington Capital Beltway, Virginia
KHALIFAH LEFT THE Washington Capital Beltway, Interstate 495, onto the ramp to the George Washington Parkway heading southeast toward DC. He changed lanes several times, slowed, sped up, and constantly watched for any possible surveillance in the few headlights behind him. Halfway to the Chain Bridge that spanned the Potomac into the Capital, he pulled to the roadside and let all visible traffic pass him before continuing on his way. Along the route he made mental notes of his surroundings, turns, and exits, and he continued to seek out any threats following him.
Satisfied he’d had no surveillance, he maneuvered through the turns for Chain Bridge and reversed direction, returning to I-495
and continuing his dance the remaining forty miles to Baltimore.
There, he repeated his surveillance detection tactics, reversed direction twice, and wound his way to the Inner Harbor.
Before beginning the long trip home, he parked in an alley just off restaurant row and strolled through the lit streets and walkways, taking careful note of the security cameras and vehicle barriers protecting the pedestrian streets around the Inner Harbor.
As he passed a Baltimore Sun vending machine, the front page caught his eye. A collage of photographs filled the top fold. Each had a horrific scene—bodies in the street, burning cars, a mosque in flames. The caption above the photographs read, “President Calls for Calm.” He inserted several coins and withdrew a newspaper.
The story below the fold said it all. Across the country, mobs had taken to the streets to protest the string of terrorist bombings. Smaller, lesser-known copycat events had begun around the country. In St. Paul, Minnesota, a sniper had killed three Muslims walking to morning prayer. A car rammed the front door of a small, remote mosque in Canton, Ohio, and burst into flames. In Tempe, Arizona, a series of mail bombs were caught on their way to Middle Eastern neighborhoods.
Fear had turned to anger. Anger had turned to revenge. Revenge had vanquished reason.
Khalifah tucked the paper under his arm. Even he had not considered these consequences. Perhaps there was another million in his future.
Operation Maya was ahead of schedule.
His reconnoitering concluded, Khalifah returned to his SUV to make the long, circuitous drive back to Winchester.
The Inner Harbor was beautiful and full of tourists this time of year. It was perfect for his surprise.
CHAPTER 69
Day 6: May 20, 0600 Hours, Daylight Saving Time
Fool’s Lake, Virginia
MY PHONE RANG and I nearly tumbled from the couch onto the carpet. I shook myself awake and sat upright. The cabin was silent. Light was just flickering through the window and the air was chilly in the early morning hours. I was knotted in my clothes from a rough sleep on the ancient, narrow couch, and my .45, extra mags, and my Mark 1 anti-nerve agent kit were piled on the floor beside me.
Despite a life with fewer women than I’d care to admit, even Victoria’s full-court press hadn’t breached my sanity. I had to admit it—I was crazy about Noor but not insane about anyone. Noor was Kevin’s, er, widow. She was out of reach. Maybe forever. Victoria, on the other hand, had made it very clear to me that she was on the menu. Except I couldn’t bring myself to her table. Somehow, ridiculous as it sounded, I had felt an instant pang of guilt and couldn’t get Noor’s sorrow off my mind.
So, after struggling to escape her net, I banished Victoria to my bed and retreated to the couch—alone.
“Victoria?”
Sleepily, I checked the cabin and looked around outside.
She was gone.
I grabbed by cell phone and read the screen. It was barely six a.m.
My phone had a dozen text messages this morning. The latest one was ominous. “Hunter. Urgent. Call Now. Artie.”
There were also half a dozen texts and missed calls from Noor. They all said essentially the same thing—Where are you? Please, call me. But it was the last text that had my attention—Jon, an Edik Petrov e-mailed you on Kevin’s e-mail. You need to see this. Please call.
First things first. I dialed Artie’s cell phone, and he picked up on the first ring.
“Where have you been, Jon?”
“My cabin. What’s going on?”
“Victoria’s missing.”
“Missing? She and I were …”
Awkward silence; then, “Oh, shit, Hunter. You didn’t sleep with her? Put her on.”
“She’s not here.” I walked to the kitchen, hunting the makings of coffee. “She left.” Well, that wasn’t a lie. She was gone.
“What time did she leave?” His voice was cranky. “Exactly?”
“I don’t know. We were up talking very late. Very late. I went to sleep, and when I woke up a few minutes ago, she was already gone.”
Artie’s voice was steel. “Come to the office, Jon. If she’s not there, then Victoria is missing and what little evidence we had on Kevin’s case is gone, too.”
“What are you talking about?” I thought about the unholy trio yesterday of Bond, Nassar, and Caine. “What makes you think it was her?”
“Get in here.” His voice was low. “Victoria isn’t answering calls and her FBI car tracker is dead. Someone got into the evidence locker at the task force and took everything we had on Kevin’s case. I know it’s not much. That includes the backups of Kruppa’s photos.”
Victoria? “It’s not her, Artie. I have a lot to tell you. Not on this cell, though. I’ll be there in an hour.”
He clicked off the phone.
Dammit.
I tried Victoria’s cell phone and got no answer. I tried again five times. I dialed Noor’s and got the same. Last, Sam’s. Nothing. Every call went to voice mail. After a shower and cleaning up, my phone pinged again with another text.
Things are so complicated, Jon. More so now. I wish you had come home sooner—Victoria.
So do I, Victoria. So do I.
CHAPTER 70
Day 6: May 20, 0730 Hours, Daylight Saving Time
Winchester, Virginia
I HIT NINETY miles an hour once I left the mountain roads. All the while hitting redial on my cell phone trying to reach Noor and Sam. Voice mail. Voice mail. Closing on a hundred, I dialed Victoria’s number and got nothing. Not even voice mail.
What did that mean?
The miles flashed by until I slid off the county road into Noor’s driveway. As I did, the first thing I saw, or didn’t see, was the deputy at the driveway again. I floored the rental, fishtailed down the drive, and skidded through the gravel to a stop almost on the porch. I ran for the front door with my .45 out and ready.
“Noor? Sam?”
Nothing.
A tingle started in my spine and spread through me like wildfire. Noor and Sam were in danger. They were in the middle of whatever hornet’s nest I’d kicked over, and the killers were swarming.
The front door was unlocked and I eased inside.
No sounds. No movement. Nothing but my breath and heart rising in tempo.
Easy, Hunter, easy. One, two, three.
One slow step at a time, I maneuvered room to room, pivoting through the hallway, covering every dark corner and every opening. I moved through the first floor, ready to take unfriendly targets and worry about questions later. I focused my thoughts, steadied my breathing, and concentrated on my next step. Every one took a year off my life.
One wrong step and it would take all of them.
At the entrance to Kevin’s den, I froze. There was someone inside sitting behind the desk, staring out into the hall at me.
I raised my .45 and eased halfway into the doorway.
Oh, no, not again.
Edik Yurievich Petrov sat upright in Kevin’s leather office chair staring through dead, bulging eyes. Duct tape covered his mouth and bound his arms to the chair. His face was a mass of dark, black bruises and oozing contusions. His arms showed the signs of a violent interrogation gone badly—broken fingers, disfigured elbows, and slices up and down his skin that gave only dark, matted blood now.
Edik Petrov had undergone brutal, horrifying torture. Had his secrets destined for me been revealed to someone else?
I slid into the room and pivoted in a circle searching for a target.
“Noor?” I called out. “Noor?”
I heard, no, I felt something moving. A foot touched hardwood behind me.
I spun but the synapses in my brain never registered the face.
Pain. Stabbing, spreading, pulsating pain. Every nerve in my body screamed in unison. My breath stopped. Lightning erupted in my eyes. I flailed and convulsed toward the floor. Sometime before I hit the hardwood, the desk rose up and found my head.
Darkness.
CHAPTER 71
Day 6: May 20, 1115 Hours, Daylight Saving Time
Leesburg, Virginia
“WHAT ARE YOU doing here?” Alexei Fedorov asked the man holding a gun across his safe house room. “How did you find this place of mine?”
Caine stepped out of the narrow hallway and kept his silenced Beretta level with Alexei-the-Foreigner’s midsection. Caine spoke in Russian. “Where is Grigori?”
“You are too impudent. You know my orders. You were never to meet me without my direction. You come here why?”
“Comrade, where is Grigori?”
Fedorov’s eyes betrayed him with a glance toward the small kitchen alcove. “Come out, Grigori. You fool. You led him to me.”
The pale, weakened Grigori Sokoloff stepped around the corner and into Fedorov’s small living room.
Caine was matter-of-fact. “I’ve watched LaRue’s safe house. When I felt it was safe, I retrieved your man. Yes, I followed him.”
“But … but … I took all the precautions,” Grigori snapped. “You could not have followed me.”
“Yet here I am.” Caine waved the gun to herd Grigori closer to Fedorov. “I came to renegotiate our deal, Colonel General. Without Khalifah.”
Fedorov’s eyes widened and a wry smile cut the corners of his mouth. “I see. When I retained your services in Damascus, I made it very clear they were nonnegotiable. Was this not the case?”
Caine nodded. “It was. But your contract was not in good faith, Colonel General. You failed to tell me you were planning to attack this country with sarin from the animals in the IRGC. This changes things significantly.”