“And you?”
“There’s nothing about our mission in Saudi. I don’t know how you knew about it, but I do know you were involved in stopping us, killing my team, killing bin Shahd’s son.”
Spencer Kirkpatrick said nothing.
Joe said, “The prince can’t have been happy with that.”
The senator’s face barely moved as he said, “You killed him, son. That’s the story he believes. But enough of this, let’s get on and see what you’ve got.” He waved to the assistant who handed the iPad to Joe.
Joe typed an address into the browser. A secure sign-in screen appeared and he entered a code. He flipped the screen around and handed it to Spencer Kirkpatrick. “That’s Read Only for now.”
The senator kept his face impassive as he scanned through some internet pages. Then he said, “What’s the code?”
“Transfer the other million first,” Joe said.
“That’s not the deal, son.”
Joe locked eyes with the big man and pretended to consider his options. He said, “Tell me what happened first, then I’ll give you the code.”
Kirkpatrick turned, took two steps towards the helicopter and beat his hands on his arms. “It’s too God damn cold for this bull.” He nodded to Simmons, the assistant, and then strode away from the flickering light.
Simmons stepped forward. “What do you want to know?”
“The black op to get bin Shahd junior wasn’t communicated up, was it? The CIA didn’t know about it until too late. Who were those guys who attacked us?”
Simmons stuck his hands in his pockets, looked like he was thinking. He said, “They were registered as Iraqi military actually. It’s all pretty blurred out there. You know that.” He shrugged. “It was a simple matter of telling them you’d gone rogue. There was no record of your mission—no approval. Black in, Black out has its own issues. Like your unit, the men who died were reported as lost in Iraq. You will have seen the official report. All tied up, no loose ends.”
“And the jamming?”
“Yes. They’d heard enough to know someone called Mirrorman had been given information by the prince. As far as I can tell, you weren’t expected to survive, but when you did, they lost you. The official line was you were in protection from the Saudis.”
A gust swirled particles of ice around them. Joe looked towards the treeline to his right, looked back.
“You want the passcode.”
Simmons said nothing then glanced towards the helicopter.
Joe said, “What?”
“There’s a sniper out there. He made his own way from Red Lodge.”
Joe nodded. That’s why they had taken so long—to give the other guy the chance to get into position.
Simmons continued: “So no stupid, sudden moves, OK? This needs to look relaxed.”
“What does?”
“You need to take the senator out. He can’t get away with this. He’s a traitor. Maybe not directly, but they were his orders. He killed your buddies.”
For a second Joe was taken aback by the switch—Simmons, the assistant, didn’t approve of the senator’s actions.
Again the guy said, “He killed your buddies, Joe.”
“I don’t have a gun.”
Simmons slid a hand from his coat. It held a revolver. He leaned forward. “Take it. We’ll walk over to the chopper. I’ll make the senator come out—tell him you have more information—and you can end it.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. Then you walk away.”
“No.” Joe glanced to the trees again. “I give you the code and then we both walk away.”
“Final answer?”
“Yes.” Joe staggered. “What the—?”
Simmons pointed the gun and fired.
SEVENTY-TWO
Joe deflected the assistant’s gun hand at the same time as a blow like a wrecking ball struck him between the shoulder blades. He pitched forward, hitting the icy ground hard. Snow kicked up close by—three rapid shots, inaudible above the helicopter noise. So there had been a sniper. His head stung like hell and he knew he’d been hit. He sucked in cold air, forcing the pain from his mind. What had his instructor once said? Pain is just weakness leaving your body. He repeated this like a mantra, gritting his teeth, scrabbling in the snow where he’d hidden a gun.
In a swift motion, he pulled an SIG from its pouch and swung it towards where the assistant had been standing. But the man was already down—a fatal head wound leaked black into the trampled snow.
The helicopter was already a few feet off the ground now, and Joe thought he could see Spencer Kirkpatrick screaming at the pilot. He aimed at the senator, the urge to pull the trigger strong. But he waited and then two short whistles stopped the myriad of conflicting thoughts. He dropped his aim. Stood and watched as the helicopter banked over the water and then up and round, heading for the faint line on the horizon. Daybreak was a few hours away. Snow began to fall again, and the few minutes of noise and chaos were transformed into a scene of peace and tranquillity.
Joe became aware of someone approaching. A man, also dressed in white, also wearing Kevlar under the ski clothes, stood beside him, looked at Joe’s head.
Hurwitz said, “It’s just a graze.”
Joe wiped some snow over it. “You were late, this guy could’ve killed me.” He bent down and confirmed that the assistant was dead. “And I need to get this vest off. I took a bullet in the back.”
“Sorry. I just didn’t…” Hurwitz stopped himself then said, “There were two snipers. I got one guy in the woods but didn’t spot the second until he got the shot off that struck your back.” He grinned. “It could have been worse.”
“Great.”
“So what happened?”
“Spencer Kirkpatrick—the senator—a key man on the NSC with connections in Saudi and Iraq; that’s who it was. That’s who we were after.” As Joe said it, he felt something didn’t add up.
“Joe?”
“Maybe it’s the cold or the graze, but it didn’t go down as we expected, and I’m damn sure it didn’t go down as Kirkpatrick expected. When we met, it was like he thought I already knew he was Mustang—that I’d know his name. I was supposed to be flushing him out. Surely if I’d known who he was…”
Hurwitz said, “Doesn’t matter. We know who he is now.”
“Sure, but that’s not what’s troubling me the most. The assistant told me what had happened in Saudi, confirmed the senator was guilty and then wanted me to kill him.”
Hurwitz squinted, confused. “But then he tried to kill you.”
“Because I wouldn’t do it. I damn well wanted to.” Joe thought again about how close he had been to firing at the helicopter. It’d only been Hurwitz’s signal that had stopped him.
Hurwitz gripped Joe’s shoulder. “I know, buddy, but we’ve plenty of evidence against the senator and he’s on film meeting you. And the pilot was probably innocent. If you’d taken out the helicopter it would have been both men.”
“I don’t like loose ends.”
“I’ll call him, send him what you’ve got. He’s from a respected family. Maybe he’ll take the honourable way out rather than let them suffer humiliation. It’ll be best for everyone if this stays quiet. That’s how these things normally go. Too much embarrassment for everyone otherwise.”
Joe nodded. “Let’s get this area tidied and pick up Kate.
“Sure. Then what?”
“Then we go to a safe house as per Woodall’s original plan.”
Joe packed a few things from the cabin where he’d lived for the past year. As he set the building alight he felt some sadness. While he’d been almost totally cut off from civilisation and desperately wanted it to be over and to find Kate, he had found living off the land, the hunting and fishing, spiritually rewarding. The year had changed him. He now knew exactly where he wanted to go, but Woodall’s plan had always been to complete the job, regroup and debrief.
The flames licked up into the night sky as though trying to catch the snowflakes. Joe watched for a while, waiting for Hurwitz to dispose of the bodies: two snipers and the assistant.
It wasn’t long before Hurwitz joined Joe by the Jeep and got in.
Joe drove them away from the secluded spot and located Hurwitz’s BMW X5 hidden off-road.
“I’ll be seeing you then,” Hurwitz said.
“Whoa! You’re not off just yet. I still need your help.”
Hurwitz reversed the BMW back on to the road and followed Joe’s Jeep into Yellowstone Park and to the inn where Kate was waiting.
When Joe opened the door, Kate threw her arms around him. After a long embrace she said, “You smell awful, Joe Cassano.” She laughed and then looked concerned and touched his forehead. “What happened?”
“Nothing serious, just a burn and there’s a bruise on my back from being shot through Kevlar. I’ll tell you all about it but not yet. First off, how has Agent Ramirez been?”
Ramirez sat on a chair, her hands still tied, her eyes trying to interpret Joe’s every move.
Kate said, “She’s been fine. You will let her go, won’t you?” Her eyes implored him until he nodded.
He walked over to the agent and cut the ties to the chair but kept her hands cuffed. He said, “Your boss is still alive… for now, but it’s time you looked for a new career. I’m letting you go because you saved Kate but you’ve questions to answer first.”
Ramirez started to say something but then looked at the door, which opened.
Hurwitz stepped inside and stamped snow from his boots.
Joe said, “Kate, I believe you’ve met Ben Hurwitz.” Before Kate could say anything, he looked at Ramirez and said, “My friend here will debrief you. Then afterwards he’ll be keeping an eye on you—he’s just looking for the chance, so don’t give it to him. Understand?”
“Thanks,” Ramirez said.
Kate gave her a reassuring smile and then to Hurwitz, with eyes full of questions, said, “So… Agent Hurwitz, I didn’t expect to see you.”
Joe said, “Ben has some explaining to do, haven’t you, buddy?”
SEVENTY-THREE
Hurwitz took Ramirez out to his car. When he returned he shook Kate’s hand like a man half expecting it to be snapped off. He sighed, “So you remember me from Windsor? Sorry about that. I was responsible for getting Joe out and covering tracks. He wasn’t really in witness protection. We wanted to lure someone out into the open, someone high up in the CIA or connected who may have sabotaged a mission—Joe’s team’s mission in Saudi.”
Joe shook his head. “Only that isn’t me. Joe was my brother.”
Kate frowned. “Your brother?”
“He is—was—the real Joe Cassano. Joe died out there and I was supposed to pretend he didn’t.”
“So you were bait.”
“I guess you’d call it that.”
“So what do I call you?”
“If it’s too confusing you can stick with Joe. After a couple of years I’ve almost grown used to it. But my real name’s Scott.”
“Scott… Joe?” Kate wondered if she’d get used to his real name, but then the enormity of the plan began to dawn on her. She frowned, real concern replacing confusion.
“Wait, does that make me part of it? Did you want the Arab to follow me?”
“No!” Scott put his arm around her.
Hurwitz said, “Joe… I mean Scott… wanted out because of you. He tried to quit, but Woodall—the other agent you met—wouldn’t let him.”
Scott added, “A year had gone by, I thought it’d never happen. And then—”
“He insisted we break the trail,” Hurwitz cut in, “so that you wouldn’t be involved.”
Kate shook her head. “But I was connected to Sarah—and Peter sent me the photo of the real Joe with Boomer.”
Now it was Scott’s turn to be surprised. “What the hell? That wasn’t agreed.” He looked at Hurwitz.
The agent shrugged and shook his head. “Don’t know anything about that. Peter agreed to be part of the trail and so was Stephanie Harper. They should have found Stephanie. Both of them were on our payroll—they provided a cover for Scott and enough information to provide the next link. From our target’s high position and with his connections we thought this wouldn’t be a problem.”
Kate said, “So who was it?”
“The target? A senator on the National Security Council.” Scott wondered again why Spencer Kirkpatrick thought he or his brother would know it was him and yet it took eighteen months for him to act. Or did he? Why had it taken another thirteen to find him? He shook his head, realizing he may never know all the facts. “Looks like the senator’s motivation wasn’t as high as we thought. It seems he was happy to wait, whereas the Saudis wanted to find me more.”
“The Arab?” Kate asked.
“He’ll have been acting for a Saudi prince.”
Hurwitz said, “Somehow the Arab picked up the trail and found you.”
“And Stephanie…” Kate tried to make sense of it all. “Why wouldn’t she meet me?”
“I messaged her,” Hurwitz said. “I told her to intervene. If you tried to meet her, she should have agreed. We knew the Arab was following you. We knew you’d left for the States and evaded the cops.”
Kate said, “Sounds like you weren’t in control.”
Scott said, “No, and that’s why I went off the CIA’s radar. I trusted that you’d find me. No one else knew where I was.”
“Until you got ahold of me today,” Hurwitz agreed.
“So are you CIA or FBI or what?”
“NSA,” the agent said. “I know it’s confusing—all these acronyms—but these days it’s more blurred, supposed to all be part of the same intel service.”
“And were you really Special Forces, Scott?”
“Yes, though not Delta. That was my brother.”
Kate started to ask more questions but Hurwitz said, “I really should get going.” He stepped towards Kate, seemed a bit awkward and then held out his hand and shook hers. “Be seeing you,” he said. Then he handed Scott his car keys. “You’re taking the Beemer, buddy—Ramirez is in the Jeep.” He winked at Kate. “And I know I don’t need to say this, but take good care of your lovely lady.”
When he’d gone, Kate said, “My God, the whole plan was a hell of a risk. People have been killed. You could have been killed. I could have been killed!”
Scott put his arms around her. “I know. If I’d known I’d meet you—if I’d known what you’d be put through, I would never have done it. I love you, Kate. I’m sorry.”
Kate kissed him, pulled back just enough that their noses were still touching and smiled. “I reckon you’ve a hell of a lot of making up to do. It’s a good job you’re going to have a long time to do it.”
Kate tended to the burn on Scott’s head and winced at the size of the welt between his shoulder blades. A few inches higher, she guessed, and the outcome would have been very different.
They slept in each other’s arms until late afternoon, ordered room service and left the lodge as it was starting to get dark.
“Where did you say we were going?” Kate asked as she relaxed into the big BMW’s seat.
“Just outside Spokane.”
“I have no idea where that is.”
“It’s in Washington—the state, that is. I’m afraid it’ll take most of the night to get there. Once out of the mountains the roads are clear of snow but it’s a ways from here.”
“And what’s there.”
“A rendezvous after the mission. Maybe some answers.”
Kate swivelled to look at Scott as he drove. “There’s a lot I still don’t really understand. Why were they after you when it was your brother’s mission? What was the mission—and why Saudi Arabia? I thought they were a friendly country.”
Scott nodded but said, “Hey don’t ask me about politics. We’ve a long drive, so you tell me what you’ve been doing
this past year. I know some stuff because I asked Ben to keep an eye on you and post updates to a secure site. And after that, I’ll try and make sense of what happened in Saudi.”
So Kate talked about her family, how quickly Darcy’s twins were growing up and how different from each other they were. She mentioned her mum’s new partner Terry and that she found it hard to accept him. This prompted her to ask, “So what’s the truth about your family? When we met, you said your brother had died. I read a report online that said you—I mean Joe—had been seriously injured in Iraq. Was that really in Saudi Arabia then?”
“Yes. They couldn’t admit an incursion into Saudi. And the decision was to pretend Joe was still alive.”
“And your family?”
“We lived in Virginia. Joe was my twin—identical, although we were pretty much what they call mirror twins. We both joined up, both Green Berets, although he’d moved into Delta Force for the last couple of years. I have an older brother too—by three years—Teddy. He was army but is something in insurance now. And I have a younger sister who sensibly kept out of the military.”
“Her name?”
“Rebecca—Becky. She lives close to my folks in Palmyra.”
Kate shrugged. “Sorry, another place I don’t know.”
“Charlottesville’s not far. You may have heard of that. What about Richmond? That’s where Teddy lives with his wife and two kids.”
Kate shook her head. “My US geography really is pretty poor. What was it like—Palmyra?”
“Colonial South. Good country. Nice, God-fearing folk, but a place to leave rather than stay. Joe and I were inseparable, had fun as kids, but we were gone as soon as we could get out.” He glanced over. “But you haven’t talked about why you came before I was ready—before it was over. I told you in my letter that I would let you know when it was safe.”
I Dare You: A gripping thriller that will keep you guessing (A Kate Blakemore Crime Thriller Book 1) Page 28
