by JP Ratto
I waved and shouted Gates’s name over the loud whir of the plane’s engines. The commander squinted, as if trying to verify my identity, then his eyes grew wide. Mac stood at his side with a frown on his face. Brandon and Ghada appeared perplexed. Gates was the first to speak.
“Lucas, what the hell are you doing here?”
With my eyes focused on Mac I said, “There’s been a new development, and I needed to catch all of you before you took off.”
“What development?” Gates glanced at his watch and at the pilot, who looked at us from the cockpit. “We’re on a schedule here. Couldn’t it wait until I was home? Surely it won’t preclude Brandon’s trip.” Gates indicated Mac, him and I move away from the plane to hear better. The three of us stood in a huddle.
“Not Brandon’s trip, but Mac isn’t going anywhere.”
With that statement Mac laughed. “Holt, what are you talking about?”
“You know very well what, Mac.”
“Lucas!” Gates shouted. “Stop being so goddamned cryptic and tell us what’s going on.”
I removed the envelope Vilari left me from my pocket. “I have evidence to prove Mac’s involvement in the theft of the toxin Windstorm.”
Charles Gates was flabbergasted; his mouth hung wide open, and he looked unable to breathe. “Are you crazy, Lucas?” he sputtered, and turned to Mac, whose face had no expression. “Mac, what is he talking about?”
Mac sighed. “Commander, I have no idea.”
I showed Gates the photo. “This was taken with Vilari’s phone Friday evening. That’s Mac, and as you can see by the surroundings, he’s at the Bethesda metro center.”
“It does look like you, Mac. Can you explain?” He handed the picture to Mac.
“It looks like me, but it’s not. I was in the garage at ADL looking for Vilari. I don’t know who that is.”
Mac tried to be convincing, but I could tell by the way his feet shifted and the lack of eye contact that he was lying. I then showed Gates the letter Vilari wrote.
“Says here he gave the toxin to a man named Guy.” Gates paled. “Holy hell, if he handed off the toxin, then what was destroyed in the plane?”
“I don’t know. A decoy perhaps.”
Gates shook his head. “Lucas, is this all you have? I admit it does look like Mac…”
“In his letter, Vilari takes exception to having been told by Guy to “man up.”
“So?” Mac folded his arms over his chest, a classic defensive gesture.
I peered into Mac’s eyes looking for the truth. “You said the same thing to me the night I encountered the FBI.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Holt, lots of people say that.” Mac’s stone demeanor was cracking.
“Why did you shoot Vilari? Is it because he could identify you?”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“Is it coincidence that you’re accompanying Brandon to Lebanon?”
“I have business for the commander.”
I glanced at Gates, who held a steady gaze on Mac. “It’s true.”
Mac tossed a smug look to me.
“But,” Gates said, “Mac, you brought the Lebanon contacts to me. You orchestrated the deal.”
“The evidence is mounting; still deny everything?” Mac maintained his stoic position. “And only four of us knew when the theft would take place,” I continued. “By the way, I tried to call Celeste Boxer. She’s not answering her phone. Seems odd in light of such a serious breach at ADL. She told me she wanted to be kept informed of anything new.”
“Maybe she was in the bathroom,” Mac said flippantly. “She likes a long bath.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And just how do you know that?”
Mac snorted. “Hell, Lucas, all women like a luxurious soak in the tub.”
I studied Mac. Perhaps he and Boxer had become friendly after all. Then I remembered he knew she drank pear martinis. I noticed it that night but thought the sliver of fruit in her glass gave it away. Had he known Boxer before I introduced them? The situation was becoming more disturbing.
“Where’s the toxin, Mac?”
Mac’s jaw clenched and he remained silent.
“Not dignifying the question with an answer?” I turned to Gates. “Commander, I believe the photo is enough evidence to at least suspect Mac’s involvement. It’s your duty to keep him from leaving the country until the FBI can question him.
Mac’s facial expressions vacillated between incredulity and anger. He continued to reject any of the charges I laid. However, the more I pressed, the weaker his denials became. He was noticeably agitated and kept looking at his phone.
“Are you expecting a call, Mac? Perhaps your contact in Lebanon?”
Gates made a decision. “Mac, I’m sorry. I can’t let you get on that plane. I’m going to say goodbye to Brandon so they can be on their way. Holt…” The commander nodded, and I knew it meant I should stay with Mac.
When Gates was gone, Mac turned to me. “Lucas, you’re making a serious mistake.”
“Am I? Why don’t you set me straight?”
“I can’t do that. I need to be on that plane.”
I watched Gates reach the jet and bid goodbye to his grandson and Ghada, who then boarded the plane.
Mac stood with his hands fisted at his side, his face taut with anger. I tried again to get him to open up. “If it’s so important you be on that plane and you had no part in the theft, why not explain why you were at the metro center?”
He shook his head at me as if I had no understanding of the situation. “Lucas, you’re wasting my time.” He turned away, and at the same time slid his arm into his jacket. Alarmed, I pulled out my Glock.
“Mac, take your hand off your gun and put your arms on your head.” He raised his arms, making a show of compliance, and then turned and ran toward the plane.
“Dammit, Mac,” I shouted. “What the hell are you doing?” Mac and I had been through a lot and I didn’t want this to end with me taking his life. I holstered my pistol and chased after him. “Mac!” I yelled again.
He glanced back at me and increased his speed, breezing past the commander, who was on his way back to us. Mac was as fit as I am, but I was gaining. He made it to the Gulfstream as the air stairs rose a few feet off the ground in preparation to taxi.
In a running jump, Mac hurled himself on the edge of the stairs and began to pull himself up. A moment later, I latched onto his legs. We rose higher with the stairs and a confused crewmember shouted to us and to someone inside the plane. Give him credit; Mac was determined to get on that plane, even if it meant taking me with him. His precarious position and my two hundred pounds swinging back and forth in an attempt to dislodge him weren’t going to let that happen.
“Mac, let go!”
I reached up, grabbed his belt, and pulled myself high enough to clutch around his waist. Mac twisted but couldn’t let go to take a swing at me. Gates screamed obscenities from the ground as Mac inched us both higher. The stairs were at the halfway point and rising when the plane jolted forward, which should have loosened Mac’s death grip on the fourth step from the bottom.
Slinging my right arm over Mac’s shoulder, I placed my palm on his neck and lurched backwards. We both fell to the tarmac.
A roar of rage came from Mac. “Lucas! Let me go!”
Even if I wanted to, it was too late. The stairs were almost closed as Gates frantically waved the Gulfstream off. It taxied to the runway.
Chapter 37
I held Mac’s arm, but he didn’t struggle. Appearing defeated, he dropped to sit on the tarmac, knees to his chest, head down. I wondered how and why Mac, a loyal member of Delta Force, a man I was proud to know, had aligned with terrorists. Even on the way to the airport, I hadn’t fully accepted the evidence before my eyes. I thought Mac would have an explanation and we would all laugh about it later.
Gates was busy with airport security and TSA personnel when I noticed Mac texting on his phone. Who was he contacting
? Was he sending a warning to someone else? I reached for the phone, but he jerked his hand away.
“Lucas, if you try that again, you’ll pull back a bloody stump.”
“Give me the phone, Mac. I can’t let you send messages to an accomplice.”
“Accomplice? Man, when this is over, we won’t even be able to sit down and talk about it over a beer.” He returned to staring at his phone.
I held out my hand. “The phone, Mac. I don’t want this to end with you and I rolling around on the ground.” Mac paused a moment before putting it in my hand. “Thanks.”
“We’re both going to be sorry, Lucas.” Mac looked past me, a satisfied smile on his face. I turned to see FBI Special Agent Grant pushing past the TSA personnel and heading toward us, Gates on their tail.
He glanced down at Mac and shook his head. “Holt, every time I turn around, you’re interfering with my investigation.”
Not the hero’s welcome I had expected.
***
Agent Grant escorted Mac, Gates, and I into an office inside the hangar. I didn’t like Grant’s attitude. Considering the evidence I had presented against Mac, he was being treated with kid gloves and I was being scolded.
“Did you listen to my voice message?” I asked Grant.
“Yes, I did, and I got here as fast as I could. I tried to call you back.”
I pulled out my phone and glanced at it. There were a few missed calls. “Sorry, but I was busy trying to stop a thief from getting on a plane.” I glared at Mac, who irked me by grinning. What the hell was going on?
“Holt, if you’d answered your phone, or at least not taken any action until you heard from me, you would’ve saved everyone a lot of trouble.”
“Excuse me?” I was stunned, bordering on livid. “I’m the one giving you trouble? What about the fact that ADL’s deadly toxin is, in all likelihood, in the hands of terrorists? Or would be if I hadn’t stopped him from going to Lebanon.”
Grant ignored my anger and put out his hand. “Let me see that photo—and the letter.”
I handed them to him. He scanned Vilari’s letter, looked at the picture, and then at Mac, who shrugged. “Vilari taking this photo was unexpected.”
“That’s it?” I shouted, incredulous. “What about Vilari’s confession and the fact he handed off the toxin to Guy? I can’t imagine what Mac’s motive was, but he had the opportunity to get the toxin, and the means to deliver it to someone in Lebanon.”
Gates, who had been silent, said, “Mac, I don’t know what to say.”
For the first time, Mac appeared ashamed. He stood and walked over to us, hands in his pockets. “Agent Grant, I need to make a phone call.”
“Calling your lawyer?” I asked.
“I don’t need a lawyer,” Mac said, “and it’s none of your business who I call.”
“Search his bags,” I said to Grant, pointing to the two suitcases the crew removed from the Gulfstream.
“Go ahead,” Mac yelled. “You’re not going to find anything.”
I had no authority in the matter, but I was tempted to open the luggage and dump it on the hangar floor. “I would do a search,” I said to Grant.
“He knows there’s nothing in there,” Mac said, sounding smug.
Grant pocketed the letter and photo. “McFadden, you’re not totally innocent, either.”
“Totally innocent? Are you crazy?”
“Calm down, Holt.” Grant shook his head. “Mac doesn’t have the toxin.”
“Really? You know that for sure.” I’d had enough. “So who the hell has it?”
Grant shifted his stance and glanced at each of us. “We do. The FBI. Mac works for us.”
Chapter 38
I’d had no response to that.
“Bet you didn’t see that coming,” Mac said.
I held my tongue and my anger as Grant gave Gates and me a brief version of events with few details. He told Mac he could fill us in with the rest. We left Dulles. Mac went with me in the Rover. The commander had other business, and his tone of voice indicated he didn’t approve of Mac’s behavior during any part of the last few weeks. I would talk to Mac and update Gates later. I was surprised when Mac suggested we go to the underground bar at the Hay-Adams.
We sat at the same table as when Celeste, he, and I were together. We settled into the booth in the corner with our Scotches. I had a million questions but let Mac tell it his own way.
He explained how Celeste Boxer had recruited him in a weak moment when he found himself with large gambling debts and few resources. Her involvement in the theft shocked me. I wondered how much of the plot to steal Windstorm the FBI knew.
“I told Grant whatever I could,” said Mac. “I knew Celeste had a contact in Lebanon who wanted the toxin. Originally, she approached Halpern; he had some skeletons in his closet. He couldn’t be bought, and he didn’t trust Boxer. That’s when he called in Gates.”
I thought Halpern was right to hire Gates Global and commended him on his integrity. Unfortunately, he probably paid for it with his life.
“So Halpern was out and Vilari was coerced instead,” I said. “The problem then was the extra security.”
“Right, but Celeste wasn’t worried about it. She and her contact thought they could use the commander, and kidnapping Brandon was their way to manipulate Gates. At first, the commander gave me the task of finding him. I suggested he contact you. I needed to be able to maintain my cover.”
“So you used both of us. Did you kidnap Brandon?” I hoped Mac could hear the fury in my voice. He continued without any sign of remorse.
“No. I found out about it after the fact. Dhakar and company abducted Brandon.”
“If Vilari handed off the real toxin to you, what was he bringing to the airport hangar?
“I didn’t know what was in the briefcase; but as far as I knew, it wasn’t the real product. Part of Celeste’s plan was to divert any suspicion as to who stole the toxin. Her Lebanon contact arranged for a group of zealots who thought they were delivering a biological weapon. It was the intent from the beginning that Vilari deliver a decoy.”
“And everyone would believe the toxin was destroyed when the plane exploded and the thieves got their due,” I reasoned. “Do you think there was a bomb in that briefcase?”
“I don’t know.” Mac stared into his drink. “Good thing they didn’t take Brandon with them.”
I agreed. That would have been a true disaster. “What about Somers and his connection with the FBI?”
“Grant had been watching Dhakar Shaheen for a while and when Brandon began a relationship with Dhakar’s sister, their scope widened to include him too. Somers reported Brandon’s interactions with Ghada and her brother to the FBI.”
“Now I see why you were on my tail when I met up with Grant and Meyers. Was it necessary for him to butt me on the head?”
Mac winced. “Yeah, I gave Grant hell for that. He overreacted. Somers was providing good information, and they didn’t want you to screw it up.”
“Info about whom? Brandon? He was missing by that time. Had you known all along where he was?”
Mac shot a wide-eyed glance at me.
“Hell, no. That was one thing I was never told. I don’t believe Celeste knew where he was, either.”
I believed Mac. “Brandon told me he was abducted after receiving a phone call from Dhakar to meet.”
Mac shrugged. “As I said, I didn’t know the details of the kidnapping, but Dhakar’s connection to Brandon brought him into the mix. Turns out Dhakar hated Brandon for dating his sister. He was pleased as punch to have the honor of abducting him.”
“And you know all this how?”
“Celeste.”
Mac finished his drink and looked longingly at the bar.
“Do you know if she killed Halpern?” I asked.
Leaning back against the red upholstery, Mac let out an exhaustive breath. “I honestly don’t know.”
“But you suspect she did.”<
br />
Mac didn’t respond.
“Where is she now?” I asked. Grant had given Mac a phone to use at the airport.
“I’m not sure. I only know we were supposed to meet in Monte Carlo after the delivery of the real toxin was made.”
“Which you weren’t going to deliver. Right?”
Mac shook his head.
“So what were you going to do when you met with your contact in Lebanon?” Mac and Grant had refused to divulge the buyer’s name. “You could have just not shown up.”
“I was going to make sure he didn’t take any action against me or Celeste for not delivering the product he expected.”
I knew what that meant. Mac’s emotional involvement with Celeste had caused his objective to change and with the FBI’s implied blessing, he was going to become an assassin. We were both familiar with wartime hits, but I could tell cold-blooded execution was not in Mac’s nature. Mac feared for Celeste’s life. Never mind that she was part of a terrorist scheme. Justice is served in many ways.
“I’m sorry, Mac.”
His eyes glazed. “She’s everything I thought I could never have; intelligent, beautiful…” He paused, chuckling, “and has plenty of money.” Mac became serious again. “She cares about me, Lucas. No doubt.”
I thought about the last time I saw Celeste and wondered.
Mac finished his drink. “And I care for her.”
“You had to know how it might turn out.” Thinking Mac’s own actions were partly responsible for the end of his relationship with Celeste, I asked, “What brought you to the FBI?”
“Conscience. She’s a political activist, playing a high-stakes game to balance the powers in the Middle East. That shit is way above my pay grade. I knew she cared about me…but I also knew that on some level I was being used. I’m a patriot at heart. I felt compelled to call the FBI and ask for someone in the anti-terrorist division.”
Between the alcohol and the story, he was becoming melancholy. I needed to keep Mac talking a little longer. “Was it Celeste you were texting at the airport?”
