“Or both,” Patrick said, another round of bullets sparking toward them. One quick turn followed another, the car in pursuit matching them maneuver for maneuver until another car appeared right in their path.
“Watch out!” Will shouted.
“I’ve had enough of this.” Patrick hit the brakes, cranked the wheel, and executed a screeching U-turn so they were now facing their pursuers. He hit the gas and yelled, “Stay down!”
Kelsey ducked and threw her hands over her head when bullets impacted the windshield and then shattered the two driver-side windows as they passed. Bits of glass rained down on them, and she could hear rubber against pavement when the car in pursuit tried to follow them once more.
Patrick floored the gas, making two quick turns before veering into a parking garage. He went up several levels before pulling between two sedans that were larger than the one they were driving. He immediately tossed his cell phone to Will. “Disable the phones and make sure Marty is clean. I’ll find us a car.”
“No sports cars this time,” Will told him. “Steal us one that will blend in.”
Patrick simply rolled his eyes and hurried off.
Will handed their cell phones to Kelsey so she could disable them and then climbed out and pulled open the back door to search Marty. He had both a cell phone and a modified wristwatch that had tracking devices on them.
Only a minute after they finished erasing their electronic signatures, a little blue hatchback pulled up behind their car. Will pulled Marty out of the back of the car and helped him into their new ride. Then he motioned to the front seat. “Take the front. And change your hair. Let’s see if we can blend in.”
Kelsey took the ponytail holder out of her hair, running her fingers through it so it would fall in waves around her face. Patrick took off his dark jacket to reveal a faded blue shirt. He then pulled a little tube of gel out of his pocket and used it to grease his hair back, then handed it to Will so he could follow suit.
Kelsey tucked her crutches across her lap and tilted them so they poked into the backseat to keep them from being visible. Not ten seconds after Patrick had started toward the exit, the sound of squealing tires vibrated through the garage.
“Park over there.” Kelsey pointed at an empty space between a basic sedan and a sporty coupe. Then she turned to Will. “Get him down out of sight.”
Everyone ducked, Will forcibly holding Marty’s head down while clamping his other hand over his mouth. Marty struggled against him to no avail. A car raced past them through the garage, followed by another. In the side mirror, Kelsey caught a glimpse of the second vehicle and identified it as one of their pursuers.
“What do you think? Do we wait for them to leave or try to sneak out now?”
“We’ve got to go now. Once they find our car, they’ll search the whole place.” Patrick started up the car and immediately pulled out and headed for the exit. He kept his speed slow and steady, and Kelsey braced for the possibility that someone else might be waiting for them outside.
With a great deal of effort, she ignored her racing heart and pretended to relax as they pulled out of the garage into the busy nighttime traffic of Tel Aviv.
Chapter 26
The single strip of storage units was smaller than Noah expected. Tucked between a used-car lot and a bottled-water company, the business took up only about thirty yards of road front, the property much deeper than it was wide.
What appeared to be a small office was situated at the front of the metal warehouse-style building, and two midsized moving trucks were parked in the small parking area to the side. The eight-foot chain-link fence looked new and forbidding. Noah didn’t see any sign of the armed guards Rodney had mentioned. In fact, he didn’t see any signs of activity at all.
At four o’clock on a Friday afternoon, he supposed it was possible that they were already closed for the day, but the antsy feeling in Noah’s gut told him everything wasn’t what it appeared to be.
“Do you think Rodney gave us bad information?” Ted asked.
“I don’t think so, but it’s possible that we’re too late,” Noah said, hoping they might finally catch a break. The newly obtained search warrant was tucked into his inside jacket pocket, and everyone on the taskforce was eager to see what information it would yield.
“Only one way to find out,” Ted said. He spoke into the microphone in his sleeve to notify the rest of his team that they were ready. Because of the belief that the mole was definitely burrowed somewhere within either the CIA or FBI, Ted had insisted that they use NCIS to back up their investigation into the intel Rodney had provided.
As soon as he had confirmed that his men were in place, one parked behind the facility on the next block over and the other a short distance down the block, he turned to Noah and asked, “Are you ready?”
Noah nodded. Ted grabbed a pair of bolt cutters to use on the padlock holding the thick chain securely around both sections of the gate. Noah stood beside him, his weapon cold in his hands as he kept it pointed to the ground and watched for any movement inside.
He took a quick look at the quiet road behind him and let his gaze sweep over the businesses on either side to make sure there weren’t any innocent bystanders around in the event that this search turned out like the last one. Seeing no one in sight, he again focused on their target.
Ted broke through the lock on the second try, the chain clanging loudly as it fell to the ground. The office door opened, and Noah lifted his weapon. “Hold it right there. FBI.”
Noah didn’t even see the man’s face before the long barrel of an automatic weapon poked out from behind the office door.
“Gun!” Noah squeezed off a couple of quick shots before rushing through the gate and taking cover behind one of the moving trucks.
Ted took position beside him, his weapon now in hand. “Did you see how many there are?”
“I couldn’t tell,” Noah said, gunfire raining toward them. “But it sounds like at least three shooters.”
“Keep them occupied. My men and I will try to swing around behind them and box them in.”
Noah nodded, waiting for Ted to circle around to the front of the truck. When he signaled, Noah swung his weapon up and used the hood as a perch. He aimed for the edge of the doorframe, where a weapon was visible. His first shots weren’t effective, forcing Noah to duck down and reload. When he popped up again, Noah and Ted fired in tandem. One man moaned and fell into the open doorway, followed by shouts in some language Noah couldn’t identify. The thought occurred to him that if Kelsey were there, she might know what they were saying.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see one of Ted’s men trying to get a better angle on the shooters, using the cars in the lot next door as cover. Positions were communicated over headsets, plans adjusted while gunfire continued to be exchanged.
Sirens screeched in the background, apparently the result of someone hearing the gunfire.
Over the headset, Noah heard Ted’s voice. “My men are in position. Time for a little distraction.”
Noah nodded in agreement, even though there was no one to see. He pulled a canister of tear gas from his pocket and popped up from behind the truck long enough to hurl it toward the front door. A second later, Ted threw his through the front window, and the gas billowed from the office.
More rapid shouts and then another burst of gunfire when two men emerged from the office. They took position, spraying bullets rapidly, apparently hoping no one would have time to return fire. Their plan worked for about thirty seconds, right up until the NCIS agent in the parking lot next door took two quick shots, dropping the man nearest him.
When the last man turned his attention toward him, Noah fought the sick feeling in his stomach and let his training dictate his actions. He popped up and fired, and the last man collapsed to the ground.
“Clear the office,” Ted instructed his men and then motioned for Noah to follow him around the corner of the building. They secured the perime
ter and circled back to the front of the building where the other agents were talking with the police who had appeared on the scene.
One of Ted’s men approached them, a thick key ring in his hand. “We found these inside. It looks like they open the storage units.”
“We’ll check it out.” Ted took the keys from him, his body still tense. “Go ahead and call in the forensics team.”
“Got it.”
Noah followed Ted around the corner to the nearest storage unit and waited for him to find the right key. When the lock finally popped open, Noah lifted his weapon and took aim. He motioned for Ted to open the door.
Daylight spilled into the unit. Noah lowered his gun slowly and tried to absorb the punch of what lay before him. Racked as though they were being stored on a navy base were five missiles.
“I’m afraid to see what’s in the next unit,” Noah admitted.
Without a word, Ted walked forward and started working on the next lock.
Again, Noah raised his weapon defensively. And again, his heart sank when he saw what was inside. This time, the interior was filled with crates of automatic weapons. One by one, they unlocked all eight units. The contents included explosives, guns, and missiles, as well as soluble disks.
“I don’t know what these guys were planning, but this is beyond scary,” Ted said when he stepped beside Noah to watch his coworkers inventory the stash they had uncovered.
“What’s even scarier is the possibility that this isn’t the only place weapons are being hidden.”
One of the NCIS agents approached. “Ted, you’d better come take a look at this.”
Ted and Noah followed him into the main office and then into a back room. In the center of the room, a rug had been pushed aside to reveal a trapdoor and a set of stairs leading into a concealed basement. “What did you find?”
“You guys will want to see this for yourselves.”
Ted led the way, and Noah followed him into the dimly lit room. Three cots were pushed up against the walls, a scarred wooden table situated in the center of the room. On the far wall, a map of the United States had been pinned up. On the table, several city road maps were scattered among food wrappers and event calendars.
“I don’t see a computer anywhere,” Ted said, taking a turn around the room.
Noah started rifling through papers, unearthing a pad of paper. He recognized the scribbles written in Arabic but had no idea what the words meant. “This might be something.”
Ted picked up a folded map of New York City. “Just what are these guys up to?”
“I don’t know.” Noah took a deep breath. “I just pray we’ve been able to stop whatever it is in time.”
* * *
Marty Porterfield wasn’t talking, but his silence was speaking volumes. Kelsey had no doubt they had found the man responsible for leaking Gregory Bealton’s identity, a piece of information that had ultimately resulted in Bealton’s death. She also worried that he might not be the only person Salman had working on the inside.
Standing in a regional field office, she cradled the secure phone next to her ear and dialed Graham’s number. As soon as hellos were exchanged, she said simply, “We were right. It was definitely Porterfield leaking information.”
“Have you been able to get anything out of him?” Graham asked.
“Nothing.” Kelsey hesitated a moment, afraid to express her fears but more afraid not to. “What if he isn’t the only one? What if Salman has someone else working on the inside?”
“I can’t imagine that he could have turned two agents. This isn’t Hollywood. This kind of thing is extremely rare,” he told her.
“I’m aware of that, but Porterfield was ready for us. Is it possible that someone could have tipped him off that we were coming?”
“Not likely. He probably just saw through the ploy that someone had been sent to pick him up,” Graham said. “Besides, we’ve been searching for possible leaks for more than two months. Surely we would have found something suspicious by now if he had more than one mole.”
Kelsey gripped the phone handle tighter. “I hope you’re right. Can you make sure the taskforce gets the information they need on this?”
“I’ll do that.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
As soon as she hung up, Patrick appeared by her side. “Time to go. We have a plane to catch.”
“Where to?” Kelsey asked, settling her crutches beneath her arms.
“Will’s taking Marty to Germany, where he will receive more medical treatment before being sent back stateside,” Patrick told her. “You and I are off to Riyadh.”
Her heartbeat quickened. “Riyadh?”
“Come on.” Patrick picked up her backpack and led the way to the door. “I’ll explain on the way to the airport.”
* * *
It was too soon. He had been prepared to serve Marty up to the authorities, but he had planned to take the credit when the time was right. And he would have done it in a way he’d be sure Marty wasn’t alive to compromise his identity. Now, not only was he vulnerable to the only man in the Agency who knew his identity, but the timing was off. He had also lost the chance to use Marty as a way to make a name for himself.
The fact that he had tried to take out that FBI agent was just one more frustration. Stupidly, he had borrowed a vehicle from Medrano to make sure the hit couldn’t be tied back to him. Unfortunately, Medrano was treating that favor as one that needed repayment even though he certainly benefited from the results of the shooting.
He would have little choice, of course. He would have to do what Medrano demanded and turn over the identity of one of the taskforce members. Otherwise, Medrano would follow through on his threat to turn him in and he would find himself on the wrong side of a prison cell.
He had been so careful. How could everything be unraveling now? For so long, he had plotted and planned.
When he had entered the Agency, he had been an idealistic agent, one who was going to help change the world. Then he found out that working for the CIA wasn’t anything like what the movies portrayed it to be. The road to the top was much longer and much more arduous than he had expected. His recruiter had said that his skills would make him a prime candidate for rapid advancement. He’d been promised that someday he would be one of the movers and shakers at the CIA. Now he was determined to get what he was promised.
He gritted his teeth as he thought of the few select agents who constantly landed those plum assignments that were so often career builders. He never had any of those handed to him. Instead, he had been forced to fight for every promotion, struggling to climb up each rung of the Agency’s hierarchy, and watch as the chosen few repeatedly had everything handed to them. He would make the people responsible pay for this, for stomping on his carefully laid plans to rise to the upper echelons of the Agency. And when he was finished, he would be the only one left standing.
* * *
She was Taja Al-Kazaz again, the man walking two steps in front of her now identifying himself as her older brother. With her burqa and niqāb in place, she used her crutches to follow Patrick through the airport. She knew the traditional clothing should have made her feel safe, her identity protected, but a sick nervousness had crept through her the moment she had donned her old clothing and picked up her alias’s passport.
Every time she averted her eyes to the ground, she resented this culture’s traditions and views on women. Where had these feelings come from? She had adapted so well for so long. Yet now, when faced with being Taja for only a single day, she found herself chafing against the name and the clothing.
This stop in Saudi Arabia was a risk, but a calculated one. Kelsey understood that it could be a tremendous help to set the stage that would hopefully stop Salman’s terror for good. A number of options were being considered to stop the flow of weapons and mercenaries out of his camps, but she knew that the one involving her was still favored over the others.
She hoped her involvem
ent wouldn’t be necessary, but if it was, she wanted to make sure she was believed to be here in Riyadh. She knew Salman’s operation well enough to know that he would certainly have people monitoring the various airports in the region looking for her. She had arrived a few hours earlier as Taja, but immediately, she had switched passports and reentered through security under another alias.
No matter what the cost, she had to be certain that no one would be able to link her to the woman living in Virginia. If a few hours in Riyadh was the price she had to pay, then she would suffer through it. By the time Salman could send anyone to retrieve her, she would be gone, and Salman wouldn’t have any way to trace her back to her real home.
Chapter 27
She should have been home by now. Or she should have at least been somewhere that she could shed this burqa and niqāb and start feeling like a woman from the West. She didn’t have to look at the watch concealed by the sleeve of her robe to know that the flight she and Patrick were scheduled to leave on was now more than four hours late.
Six times already, Patrick had checked with the airline personnel to find out what was going on, and each time, they were given the same answer. Mechanical difficulties. Kelsey might have believed they had simply suffered a stroke of bad luck, but when the crowd of other passengers waiting for their flight started thinning, her suspicions bloomed.
She held her crutches across her lap, fiddling with the metal piece in the center. Retrofitting the simple medical tool to hide a weapon had seemed unnecessary when she had begun this journey. After all, Patrick had been able to give her a weapon when she had arrived in Tel Aviv and they shouldn’t have any need to defend themselves here in Saudi Arabia. She didn’t have any enemies in Riyadh, and she wasn’t supposed to be here long enough for Salman’s men to find her.
Patrick leaned over and whispered to her, “Go to the bathroom. I’ll meet you outside the door in a minute.”
Kelsey didn’t respond except to shift her crutches and pull herself up to a stand. She kept her eyes lowered as she’d been taught, but she didn’t miss the way the man working at the gate watched her leave. When footsteps sounded behind her, she was afraid to look back to see if she was being followed or if it was just some random passenger who happened to be traveling in the same direction.
Deep Cover Page 17
