Lynn Ames - Beyond Instinct

by Lynn Ames

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Any interesting phone chatter?” Vaughn had asked Sabastien to monitor Pordras’s phone, knowing Fairhaven would’ve taken precautions with his own, just as she had.

  “No. Although you might be interested to know that Pordras has been moving quite a bit of money offshore in the past couple of days.”

  “Can you prove it?”

  “Of course. I’ve got account numbers, dates, amounts…the works, as you would say.”

  “Good. Send that to Justine, please.”

  “On it. Anything else I can do for you?”

  “How secure is our connection?”

  “Ironclad.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Elliott, who do you think you’re talking to? I’m positive.”

  “And the same would be true of a call from you to Justine?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I want you to call her.” Sabastien’s reassurances not withstanding, Vaughn decided to err on the side of caution. “Tell her this will go down in the next two hours, and depending on the information I get from our guest, I may need her to do more than just tell her fib. Her fib might need to make a couple of house calls with friends in tow.”

  “Was I supposed to understand that?” Sabastien asked.

  “Justine will get it. Please make sure you repeat it exactly as I told it to you.” Vaughn waited. “Do you need me to say it again?”

  “Do I look stupid? No, Elliott, you don’t need to repeat yourself like I’m some feeble-minded simpleton who just fell off the potato truck.”

  “It’s turnip.”

  “What?”

  “If you’re going to use American expressions, at least get them right. The expression is ‘just fell of the turnip truck.’”

  “Oh.”

  “Later, Sabastien. Wish me luck.”

  “Bonne chance, Elliott.”

  Vaughn closed the phone and sat down on the floor to wait. She would stay in the coveralls for a while longer until she was satisfied that the guards were in place. A check of her watch told her it would be another hour before she could expect the majority leader.

  “Report,” Fairhaven said to his plant at the Los Angeles Times. Although it was the middle of the night, he was wide awake.

  “I am in the car behind the majority leader. We are pulling up to the presidential palace now. No sign of any trouble.”

  “Elliott? Coulter?”

  “As I said, everything is clear and on schedule. Majority Leader Stowe doesn’t suspect anything and is looking forward to her visit. A crowd of protestors was just beginning to form when we rounded the last corner. I assume some of those are yours.”

  “Yes, they checked in several minutes ago. They are in place and ready.”

  “Okay. I have to go. Don’t worry. Everything is going like clockwork.”

  “You know what to do in case…”

  “Yes, yes. As I said, everything is under control.”

  “All right. Call me as soon as it is done.” Fairhaven disconnected the call. He had an itch between his shoulder blades that usually signaled trouble. Relax. You’ve created a good plan, the players are skilled and in position, there’s no sign of Elliott…

  That was it. That was what bothered him. Where the hell was Elliott? He was sure she had left Zurich, but he was equally certain that the New York trip had been a red herring. So where was she really? She could be anywhere, although there’d been no activity in any of her bank accounts or on her credit cards.

  She had to be eating, sleeping, and was likely on the move. If she had cash, where was she getting it? He thought of Brian’s remark—that perhaps she’d been mortally wounded by Sielig. It was obvious that either she, McNally, or Coulter had been wounded in Mali. He doubted that Elliott was dead, but if it had been her blood in the car and Sielig had hit her a second time, she might be keeping a low profile because she was too badly hurt to do otherwise. Coulter could’ve pulled off the misdirection regarding the flight to the States just to keep him worried. He certainly hoped that was the case, although he wasn’t deluded enough to believe that.

  Assuming she was alive, Fairhaven had no doubt that Elliott had connected the dots enough to know the target, but it was unlikely that she understood why. He intended to keep it that way. After Stowe was disposed of, if Elliott was still in the mix, he would see to it personally that she was terminated, even if he had to do it himself.

  Justine answered the cell phone on the third ring. “Mmm-hmm?”

  “Bonjour, Justine. C’est Sabastien. It sounds as though I’ve disturbed your sleep.”

  “S’okay. You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. What’s going on?”

  “Elliott asked me to let you know that Pordras has been moving significant sums of money into an offshore account in the last few days.”

  “Is Vaughn okay?” For the second time that night, she fumbled for the light switch and sat up in bed.

  “Yes. She is in place.”

  “Good. E-mail me what you have on Pordras.”

  “It’s already done. I also have another message from Elliott for you, although it makes no sense to me.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “She wants you to know that this will go down in the next two hours and depending on the information she gets from her guest, she may need you to do more than just tell your fib. Your fib might need to make a couple of house calls with friends in tow. Does that make any sense to you?”

  Justine blinked several times. “Yes, it makes perfect sense.”

  “Care to explain?”

  “No.”

  “I was afraid you would say that.”

  “Okay. Everything still secure on your end?” Justine asked.

  “Yes. By the way, I forgot to tell Elliott, it seems your flight to New York created quite a stir. Your names were flagged before you’d crossed the ocean. Fairhaven must have it set up so that as soon as you are in the system he is notified. Airport officials were ordered to keep the plane sealed until there were agents in place to search it once it landed.”

  “Good to know. Fairhaven’s probably tearing his hair out by now trying to figure out where we actually are.”

  “Maybe you should play with him one more time, since he knows now that you are not in New York,” Sabastien said.

  “You want to put us on another flight?”

  “Perhaps you should be booked from Paris to Mali?”

  “That might be fun. When would we take off?”

  “Half an hour from now, arriving in Mali tomorrow morning.”

  “When the delegation arrives,” Justine said. “Yes, I think that would be most helpful. Do it. Anything that keeps Fairhaven off balance at this point is a bonus.”

  “Consider it done,” Sabastien said. “I expect Fairhaven will get word within the hour, if that matters to you.”

  “It does. Thanks, Sabastien. Stay safe.”

  “I should say the same to you. Say hello to the beautiful Sage for me.”

  “Bye.” As soon as she ended the call, Justine punched in another number.

  “Yeah?”

  “Hey, Pee Wee.”

  “What did I tell you about calling me that?”

  “Um, that you love it?”

  “Is there something you wanted in the middle of the night, or did you call to harass me and make sure I’m awake?”

  “I just got news. You may need some heavy duty backup in the next hour or two. Looks like we’ll have our package in hand by then. Depending on the information, immediate custody might be appropriate. That would be FBI jurisdiction.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Paul, you’re going to want to get them before they leave their houses.”

  “I’m not exactly new at this, sis. I’ve got it covered. Fairhaven still hasn’t gone to sleep. He’s been pacing in front of the window for so long he’s making me dizzy. I’ll wait to hear from you. Now go back to bed. God knows yo
u need your beauty rest.”

  “That was uncalled for.”

  “I’m your little brother. What did you expect?”

  Justine ended the call. She thought about Vaughn, who probably was sitting in a ladies’ room somewhere in the presidential palace at that moment, waiting for the majority leader.

  If Madeline Stowe could provide a motive for the plot, the FBI would have grounds to make the arrests. If, on top of that, Vaughn could somehow tie the mechanics directly to Fairhaven and Pordras, that would make the case even stronger.

  Vaughn heard the commotion in the hallway. She was dressed in her own street clothes and standing in a corner behind the door. It would be impossible to see her unless someone stepped all the way inside. Her hand was on the Glock concealed in the duster.

  The sharp clicking of high-heeled shoes on the marble floor in the corridor was unmistakable. The strides were quick and purposeful.

  “Madame, perhaps you would like to freshen up?” Vaughn heard Nate’s voice directly outside the door.

  “That won’t be necessary, I—” The majority leader’s tone was brusque.

  “I assure you, you’ll feel better afterward. Please?”

  Vaughn watched as the deadbolt was unlatched from the outside. She tightened her grip on the pistol. Like any good agent, she would not trust the situation until it was completely within her control.

  “One moment, Madam,” Nate said. “Let me ensure that the area is secure.” He spoke the last four words loudly. Vaughn understood that they were meant for her. Still, she did not let down her guard.

  Nate stepped inside and held his hands out in front of him where Vaughn could see them. He peeked around the door. “I see everything is the way I left it.” He smiled at her.

  “Is everything okay?” Vaughn asked, her voice pitched low so that only Nate could hear her.

  Nate matched her tone. “Yes. The car is ready, as is the plane. The president and prime minister were persuaded once they were presented with evidence.”

  “The reporter?”

  “At the moment, he is enjoying the hospitality of our local jail.”

  “You took his phone?”

  “He was strip searched. I must say, he had some interesting implements for a journalist.”

  “I bet. How is our guest?”

  “Annoyed. She’s not happy with the inconvenience.”

  “In that case, I suggest you let her in so that I can explain.”

  Nate nodded and stepped outside. “Madam, everything is secure.”

  The majority leader strode into the bathroom and tossed her purse onto the sink. When she looked up into the mirror and saw Vaughn standing there, her eyes registered shock followed by something indefinable.

  Stowe was every bit as imposing in the flesh as she appeared on television, although she was younger and smaller than Vaughn expected. Her hair was drawn back in a severe chignon, her suit was classically tailored, and her heels were practical, rather than showy. “Madam Majority Leader. Please don’t be alarmed.”

  “Agent Elliott.” Madeline Stowe turned from the mirror. “Your picture doesn’t do you justice. You’re much better looking in person.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  The majority leader stepped forward and extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Vaughn’s mind raced as she shook hands automatically. “You know who I am?”

  “Oh, yes. Your file has been on my desk for many months.”

  Of all the scenarios Vaughn had played out in her head in the three hours she’d spent in the bathroom, this wasn’t one of them. “I’m afraid to ask why?”

  “You shouldn’t be.”

  Vaughn tried to regain her professional equilibrium. “Madam Majority Leader, I don’t know what you were told by the president and prime minister upstairs—”

  “Not much, except that there has been a drastic change in my itinerary due to an unspecified threat.”

  Vaughn suspected Stowe was a woman who would appreciate directness and efficiency. “I assume you know Secretary of State Pordras. Are you familiar with Edgar Fairhaven?”

  The majority leader’s eyes narrowed. “His file has been on my desk for months too.” The words were said with extreme distaste.

  “There is a very real, very specific plan in play to assassinate you here in Nouakchott—as soon as you step outside the front door.”

  “And you believe Fairhaven and Pordras are at the end of the food chain?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I have quite a bit of proof.”

  “You don’t need to convince me. I’m not the least bit surprised.”

  Vaughn raised her eyebrow. This was not going at all the way she had expected. “Madam Majority Leader, why would Fairhaven and Pordras want you dead?” It was the question that had plagued Vaughn since she and Sage figured out the target.

  The majority leader sighed and leaned against the counter. “How much time do you have?”

  “We have an entire plane ride to Brussels and then to the States. But first, I need to know enough so that we can pick up Fairhaven and Pordras.”

  “I don’t know if you’re aware of it, Agent Elliott, but I began my career as a prosecutor.”

  Vaughn nodded. “I had heard that.”

  “What you probably didn’t know was that one of my first cases was against a young punk named Brian Pordras.”

  Light dawned in Vaughn’s eyes. “The drug case that Fairhaven had swept under the rug.”

  “Yes. It was one of my first lessons in politics. Back then, I was young and naïve, and I thought justice prevailed.” Stowe pursed her lips. “Anyway, fast forward to last year. A lovely young girl named Jennifer was an intern in my office. She and several other interns attended a party given by Brian Pordras’s much younger, and very secret girlfriend. Apparently, heroin was the main course. The quality of the drugs evidently was quite pure. While under the influence, Pordras bragged that this was the finest strain of heroin produced anywhere in the world—shipped directly from Afghanistan.

  “Unfortunately, Jennifer ingested a bit too much and overdosed. She died on the way to the hospital.” Stowe shuddered. “She was twenty-two years old, bright, and had her whole life in front of her. It was the first time she’d ever done drugs.” Tears glistened in Stowe’s eyes when she looked at Vaughn.

  “So you began looking into the details.”

  Stowe shrugged. “Once a prosecutor, always a prosecutor. It took me a while to unearth Pordras’s name. As you might imagine, all of the kids who were there were afraid to talk. After all, he’s the secretary of state, and they were doing illegal drugs.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Given what I already knew about Pordras but couldn’t say publicly, I wasn’t going to be satisfied to see him charged only with supplying the drugs—I wanted him for Jennifer’s murder.” Stowe’s eyes turned hard as coal. “Unfortunately, I couldn’t prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was the one who’d supplied the heroin. He was pretty clever about distancing himself from the product.”

  Vaughn’s respect for this woman was growing by the minute.

  Stowe looked at Vaughn as though assessing whether or not the agent was trustworthy. Apparently satisfied, Stowe continued. “Here’s something that isn’t on my resumé.” She took a deep breath. “I had a younger brother. The official story is that he was killed in combat in Vietnam. The truth is that he died of a drug overdose—the same heroin that was smuggled from Vietnam into the States via the bodies of American soldiers.”

  The majority leader’s voice shook with emotion. Vaughn put a sympathetic hand on her arm.

  “So, when you heard the boast about the drugs being from Afghanistan, you figured the same thing was happening all over again.”

  Stowe nodded. “I couldn’t bear to see another generation of promising kids ruined like my brother.” This time the tears did begin to fall. Vaughn handed her a tissue.

  “Thank you.” Stowe dabbed at he
r eyes. “Anyway, I started looking into who had access to the bodies coming back from Afghanistan. I wasn’t getting too far, until I saw the report of an explosion at Andrews Air Force Base in which a young woman mechanic was killed.”

  “Sara.” Vaughn whispered the name, the pain as fresh and real as if she were still holding her mangled body.

  “Yes.” The majority leader was looking at Vaughn with great kindness. “I’m sorry. I know she was very special to you.”

  Vaughn’s head snapped up.

  “I’m the senate majority leader. I have access to almost any piece of information I desire, even if it’s classified.” Stowe continued, “When I got the victim’s name and heard that a second woman had been injured in the blast, I began digging deeper and demanded to be briefed by the FBI. They referred me to the then-director of the CIA, who handed me a report written by none other than Edgar Fairhaven.”

  “You didn’t believe the president’s explanation of terrorism on American soil?”

  “No. As soon as I saw Fairhaven’s name in such proximity to Pordras’s, the hair on the back of my neck began to stand up.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “I asked for, and was provided with, your dossier…and Sara’s. At first, when I realized that Fairhaven was the one who recruited you both out of college, I wondered if you weren’t part of the plot and he was going to sweep this one under the rug too.”

  “Well, the bastard accomplished that,” Vaughn murmured.

  “Not exactly. Fairhaven stuck you on desk duty, and that didn’t fit with my theory that he would reward you or promote you to keep you quiet.”

  “No. He wanted me buried. I knew someone in the Company was responsible for bringing in the drugs and for Sara’s death, but I had no idea who. Fairhaven assumed correctly that I wouldn’t let the matter drop until I found Sara’s killers. He wanted me where he could keep an eye on me.”

  This time it was Stowe’s turn to nod. “The whole thing stunk. But again, I didn’t have any proof. So I kept tabs on you, figuring you might be the key to cracking open this case.”

  “I don’t know whether or not I should be flattered,” Vaughn said.

  “Fairhaven had you transferred to DS, under Pordras’s control, and my Spidey sense was tingling.”