Spy Catcher: The J.J. McCall Novels (Books 1-3) (The FBI Espionage Series)

by Skye, S. D.

  Tepidly, he dialed her number hoping she would answer before he lost his nerve and hung up. He hated needing help, more than he loved her.

  “Hey, J.J. it’s me…I, uh,” he began before falling silent. He let the void linger as he got his words together.

  “Everything okay? I assume you didn’t call for me to listen to you breathe.”

  “Oh…sorry,” he replied. “I’m calling because I…I need your help. Operational issue…and a moral dilemma.”

  “Moral dilemma? Since when did you get morals? Did the CIA finally issue ‘em to you?” J.J. cracked.

  A heavy silence fell between them.

  “Hey, not even a chuckle?” she continued. “We’re wasting some of my best stuff here.”

  “Where do I begin?” he said, biting his nails. A nervous habit from childhood, one of the few he was unable to break. “We hired contractors—black bag—to help find our friend. He succeeded.”

  J.J. gasped, and her voice shifted an octave higher. “You’ve got him?”

  “I would say yes if you me and the contractor weren’t the only people on Earth with this information. It’s an off-the-book transaction.”

  “Oh shit!” she said, before checking her excitement. “I-I-I don’t understand…”

  “The package he arrived with is still missing. Refuses to turn it over. And our contractor friend has a strong desire to follow orders contrary to mine. This has led the friend, a Marine, to use, shall we say, creative means to find out the location. Extremely creative.”

  J.J. exhaled and grumbled. “For crying out loud. When you get in trouble, you really do it in spectacular fashion.”

  “I’ve never been in a situation like this before, with this much at stake…a life and a missing package that is gravely damaging.”

  J.J.’s heavy sigh filled the phone. Took her a minute to absorb the shock. “In almost any other country, the FBI would make a formal request to detain and extradite, but we have no such agreement with Russia. Given the identity of the guest, they’d sooner crown him Emperor than turn him over to us.”

  “Yeah, Ghost said the same thing.”

  “Hate to agree, but he’s right. The higher up the chain this goes, the more skittish folks become about bending the rules. And with the media circus, he’ll morph into the political football no one will touch. What the contractor’s done is give us the best chance of recovering the missing package.”

  “Yeah, but what about…I can’t just stand by and let him…” Six stammered. “No one wants him dead more than me but there are rules.”

  “Six, you took an oath. I can’t tell you what to do here, but on my watch, he gets only one chance to betray this country—no more. How will national security be served by the grave damage caused if it’s leaked…or the entire station gets expelled? How is the U.S. made stronger? It isn’t. It would be a major disservice. And if it takes a few bumps and bruises to spare us then let him be the sorry ass caught between a rock and a hard place. He put himself in that position; we didn’t.”

  “Damn. Remind me never to cross you,” Six said. “But I agree…which leads me to my next problem. Pocket litter…and a netbook. I need forensics but can’t ask anyone here to do it. Everyone I trust is stateside.”

  J.J. paused. “Double wrap it. Address it to Sunnie at headquarters and give it to the Legat,” J.J. said, referring to the Legal Attache, the FBI’s embassy representative. “He’ll pouch it to her, and I’ll have CART examine it.” The FBI’s Computer Analysis and Response Team performed computer forensics. “We can handle it within the purview of the task force.”

  “Hmph. Beautiful and brilliant. Man, I owe you one.”

  “That’s why they pay me that one really big buck.” She chuckled.

  J.J. always said the right thing in perfect time. Six loved her laugh, but it came to a sudden halt.

  “Sheesh, I almost forgot,” J.J. said. “You couldn’t have timed this call better. I just received some troubling news from my good friend…the one at the embassy.”

  He did a quick calculation. She must be talking about her source.

  “It seems the Center is filled with rumors and non-believers,” J.J. said. “People doubt his status.”

  “Well, some rumors are true.”

  “Why don’t you sound surprised?” J.J. said. “Did you hear the news from another source?”

  “Let’s just say I’m having trouble with both of our friends here. One won’t talk. The other talks too much,” Six replied.

  “Don’t I know it. He’s stubborn and proud. The faster you end this, the better. You got a plan?”

  Six belted out a facetious chuckle. “Do I have a plan? Ha! Do you follow rules?”

  J.J. laughed.

  “I’ve got nothing,” he continued. “Security’s tight. Checkpoints everywhere. Watchers on us like stink on shit. I couldn’t get a stick of butter out of this country without ten FSB officers asking me to spread it on their toast. Getting our friend out without leaving the country in handcuffs for a spy trade would be nothing short of a miracle.”

  “Well, if my last two ops have taught me anything about Russian intelligence, it’s this: What the ears hear, and the eyes see, the Russians believe.”

  Six took a moment to contemplate what she’d said; J.J. words resonated. Instead of trying to conceal Stan, show them what they want to see. Confirm what they think they know. She came through again. “That’s the answer, damn it! Why didn’t I think of this before? If you were standing in front of me right now, I’d kiss you.”

  “Yes, and five seconds later I’d lay you flat on your ass, but I’m glad I could be of service.”

  “Me too,” Six said. “One problem down. Still one to go though. In a few days, I’m going to have to get someone out of the country who doesn’t want to leave.”

  “See, that’s where you and I differ, dear. You’re exfil, one of the best there is. You focus on ‘How do I get him out?’ Me? I’m counterintelligence. My focus would be on figuring out what I need to do to make him want to leave. In my experience, few things make men more skittish than angry enemies. And if he didn’t have any enemies—I’d create one.”

  Six turned and glanced at the netbook. The answer may be sitting in his hands. He smiled. “You called me dear.” For a moment, it was like old times.

  J.J. sucked her tongue and fell silent. “It was a just figure of speech. Now I’m calling this conversation over. Goodnight.”

  Chapter 27

  Early Sunday Morning — New York City

  The phone’s ring jarred J.J. awake. She rose still hung over from Dree’s shot of reality the day before. Hardly slept two hours together, spent the night ignoring Tony’s repeated calls and late-night texts. Their bloodlines had doomed their relationship, or misguided attempt at one, from day one. And then there was Six, an ever present reminder of a simpler life. He was easy…and not just in the gigolo sense. Once she got past his duplicitous lifestyle, constant lying, and inability to separate his life from his cover, loving him would’ve been as easy as breathing…through a thin tube. The swirling thoughts made her dizzy. Maybe she should answer Tony’s calls.

  She groped through the darkness for the handset and picked up. “This better be good.”

  “It’s me, Six…again,” the silky tenor said. “What are you wearing?”

  “Morning breath and PMS.” She fought back a smile and squinted at the clock. five a.m. She grumbled. “Didn’t I just get off the phone with you? What time is it there?”

  “It’s one o’clock in the afternoon. Haven’t pulled an all-nighter like this one since grad school.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Spent the night examining Mosin’s netbook. Apparently, he never thought he’d get caught. The password hint was, in fact, the password. Tried to find something that might point me to where he stashed the intel.”

  “Any luck?”

  “Most of his files are encrypted. Different password.”

&n
bsp; J.J. shrugged. “Not a problem for CART,” she said. “WFO has one of the best teams. I’m gonna owe Hopper big for this favor. When are you pouching it?”

  “It’s already on the way,” Six said. “But I found something else I need your help with. The one thing he failed to encrypt.”

  She scraped her scraggly hair from her eyes. “What’s that?”

  “A calendar. He’s got some appointments, but there’s no mention of what they’re for, one at Five P.M. on the 9th of every month, and the other at Two A.M. on the 23rd of every month.”

  J.J. bolted upright. The burst of adrenaline widened her eyes and her grin. “Did you say the 23rd?” she asked, her mind brimming with anticipation.

  “Yeah? Mean something to you?”

  The 5 – 9 and 2 – 23 had to be related to the Russian holidays Sunnie discussed in her briefing. The days the alleged babies were scheduled for delivery. With Mosin’s involvement, she had an undisputable link to the sleeper network. The mob would conduct a drop on the 23rd but she still lacked a location.

  “Sunnie…she briefed us yesterday. I’ll have her send you the death by PowerPoint on the high side,” J.J. said, referring to the most secure network. “Long story short, Troika’s using legitimate operations to cover-up its role in a drug and arms trafficking network—laundering drug money to buy arms for drug cartels and the Russian mob. We believe a shipment’s supposed to be transported tomorrow morning, but the SAC wouldn’t authorize investigative resources because we don’t have an address.”

  “Hmm. Then today is your lucky day…an address is listed on the calendar.”

  “What? Six, what is it?”

  “Well, I have good news and bad news.”

  “Oh, Jesus. What’d you do?”

  “Well, the bad news is, the notebook is on its way to FBI Headquarters via diplomatic pouch and the address inside.”

  “Ugh. Why me?”

  “The good news is—I have a photographic memory and never forget anything I see.”

  “You mean pornographic?” J.J. quipped.

  “That too.”

  “Is that so?” She rolled her eyes and smiled at the same time. “You haven’t taken your crazy pills this morning, have you? Give me the address before I drive to your house, break into your garage, and key the Porsche...by accident.”

  “If you would stoop so low as to resort to a Porsche threat, you must need this,” he said. “555 North 10th Street. Brooklyn.”

  J.J. couldn’t contain her excitement. This was the lead they needed to get resources and make the bust. “I’m going to owe you big for this one, Six.”

  “No, if this pans out and you make an arrest, you’ll already be paying me back. In a major way.”

  J.J.’s eyebrows scrunched. “What you talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?”

  “Wasn’t it you who suggested I needed to find Mosin some enemies?” Six paused to let J.J.’s thoughts catch up. “Make this bust. That should do the trick. But a better question is what the hell is he doing with the address to the drug shipment’s location?”

  J.J.’s mind churned. “Well, you’ve got him in custody. Sounds like a good question to ask.”

  “Good point.”

  “I’ll bet since Lana’s death they designated him to pay off the rest of the sleeper agents…until we blew his cover.”

  “I’ll run this down and let you know what happens.”

  J.J. hung up the phone and flitted around the room in a panic, stumbling into her clothes and out of the door.

  She ran to Tony’s room giddy, the rush helping her remember the small things that excited her about the job. This was a break no one expected. She fired off successive knocks at his door and listened to feet scuttle across the floor.

  When the door opened, she cracked her mouth open, prepared to share the news. She was frozen in shock when she saw who answered. “Gia? What the hell are you doing here?” she asked, the words fell out of her mouth before she could adjust the bitch-on-fire tone. J.J. looked over Gia’s shoulder and scanned the room, but the bathroom door was closed. “Where’s Tony?”

  She smiled with a gloating contempt. “He’s in the shower.”

  J.J. felt a surge of anger so powerful it almost thrust her hand into Gia’s throat. But as she listened to the water shut off, Gia’s expression turned from cocky to guilty. “He doesn’t have any idea I’m here. The maid let me in.”

  Those words, as it turned out, saved Gia’s life. J.J. jostled past her, knocking her into the wall. She took up a seat on the bed, crossed her legs, and folded her hands against her knee. Soon Tony walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, his skin still glistening from the steam.

  “Hey! Good…”—he turned and noticed Gia—“what are you doing here?”

  “I just wanted to thank you for inviting me to dinner. That’s all. I’ll leave you to get dressed,” she said, turning to make her exit.

  After the door closed behind her, J.J. cleared her throat. “That bitch is going to get you cut one day.”

  “What the hell’s goin’ on?” he asked.

  “She wanted to thank you for dinner all right—thank the hell out of you with her own special dessert. Probably told the maid she was your wife to get in here. Keep an eye on her before you make me catch a case.”

  “J.J., I had no idea she was here. I’ve been calling you all night. What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

  She shook her head no. “Hurry up and get dressed. We’ve got a shipment to seize.”

  “You serious? The odds of us seizing that shipment are equal or less than Godzilla's foot coming through this ceiling right now.”

  “If that’s the case, you better move out of the way. A scaly foot should be coming through the window any second.”

  “How? You got a crystal ball?”

  “No. I’ve got an address…and the justification we need to get resources and take down this network.”

  Chapter 28

  Monday Afternoon — Moscow Safe House

  Talking with J.J. invigorated Six’s resolve to find the intel as well as to determine what his detainee knew about the drug and arms network linked to funding the sleeper network. Six hovered over Mosin’s chair, his eyes burning like a desert brush fire from the stench of his body odor. He was in desperate need of a bar of soap and water. Animals in the woods smelled less offensive—at least they could lick themselves clean.

  Before Ghost left the two alone, he told Six that he’d deprived Mosin of sleep. The obstinate detainee dozed for two hours after staying awake the last twenty-four hours, but Ghost also admitted he made no progress and was no closer to breaking Mosin than the day he arrived. In Six’s eyes, Mosin’s refusal to cooperate signaled one of two things: He was so confident they’d never find the intel, he had nothing to lose—or he believed he, in fact, had more to lose by revealing the location. Six’s only hope of breaking him down before the mandatory stand down was to find out which case was true. His discussion with J.J. provided him with some leverage, enough facts to provoke a reaction. If he couldn’t get Mosin to confess the intel’s location, then the next best option was to create a scenario in which Mosin believed his life depended on him giving it up.

  Mosin’s head bobbled to the side in a jarring sweep, startling him awake. He jerked his head back and narrowed his eyes once they trained on Six. He sneered, “Back again, huh? You’re wasting your time.”

  “I don’t think so.” Six grabbed a chair and placed it parallel to Mosin’s. He faced the chair-back forward and sat down with his legs straddled across the seat. “I came to thank you…for the netbook. It has proven very helpful so far, the calendar in particular.”

  Mosin’s eyes froze.

  “Yeah…we know all about the shipment,” Six said.

  Mosin’s mouth fell open, and he gasped. His eyes widened before he squeezed his lids shut.

  “Mashkov’s entire organized crime syndicate will be wondering how the FBI all of a sudden compromi
sed an operation they’ve been running for years. One that’ll cost them millions of dollars in drugs and cash. One thing about the mob, they don’t like people responsible for fucking up their money, you understand? That’s a hazardous occupation.”

  Mosin shook his head in disbelief, and a tenuous smile took over his face.

  “I’m certain the netbook will be even more helpful when the FBI completes their forensics examination,” Six said. “They’ve got a supercomputer able to crack encrypted files in less time than it’ll take you to get out of this chair. So, you’ve got a choice here, Hawk. Tell me where you stashed the intel, or I make sure the mafia finds out you’re the reason their shipment got seized.”

  “I gave you nothing!” he snarled.

  Six shrugged. “Well, you and I know that…but they don’t.”

  “Heh,” he said, his tone laden with condescension. “You are so full of shit. Think I can’t hear what’s going on between you two? Ghost, he schooled you like you were his child, and he was your daddy. You cower to him and bend to his will because you don’t have the guts, the cold-blooded instinct it takes to turn my name over to the mob or even to your own government.”

  Six smirked and let out an uncomfortable chuckle.

  “You should’ve brought that cunt bitch FBI agent you work with to handle your business. She’s got bigger balls than you.”

  Six leaped out of his chair, which collided with a loud thud against the floor, and grabbed a fistful of Mosin’s shirt and chest hair. He could feel the hair pull as he tightened his grip. “Let me tell you something,” he rumbled through clenched teeth. “You keep that woman and everything about her out of your mouth, capiche? Keep talking shit, and I will fucking end you right here. The only thing they will find from your body is that tongue you keep wagging. ”

  “Careful,” Mosin lashed back with a devious grin. “Your weakness is showing.”

  Six caught himself and released Hawk’s shirt with a shove, rocking his chair backward. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m the only person standing between you and a painful, torturous death. Ghost despises traitors and rats. He would’ve killed you on sight if it weren’t for me so don’t get it twisted. The only reason you’re still sucking breath today is because I have honor…and I don’t need to torture you in order to get what I want.”