Zero Separation

by Philip Donlay

  Lauren nodded.

  Buck pulled the door open and invited Keller into the house. Outside, the Fairfax police closed ranks and blocked the limousine’s exit.

  “Dr. McKenna. Please pardon the intrusion. My name is Aaron Keller. I’m with the Israeli Embassy.”

  Lauren studied the man. Medium to slight build, he was dressed in an expensive suit and he appeared to be in his mid to late forties with short brown hair and brown eyes. He stood relaxed and took in his environment. Despite a polished demeanor and a casual smile, Lauren sensed the same kind of understated superiority that Buck possessed.

  “Mr. Keller, this is Mr. Buckley. He’s in charge of my security. Can I offer you something to drink?”

  “That’s very kind of you, Dr. McKenna, but I’m afraid I can’t stay very long. Is there someplace where we can talk in private?”

  “Let’s go into the living room, but I must insist that my head of security join us.”

  “Of course, I understand,” Keller replied. “In light of recent events, I’m thankful for your time.”

  Lauren led them into the living room where she switched on two lamps and sat down. Buck waited as Keller settled into the sofa across from Lauren before he too took a chair.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Keller?” Lauren said.

  “First, I want to say how sorry I am about your loss. Your husband seemed like an exceptional man.”

  “Thank you. When did you meet my husband?”

  “Two nights ago in Florida,” Keller replied. “But then you knew that because he sent you a photo of a man and no doubt asked you to check me out as well. I’m here as a courtesy, Dr. McKenna, but I need to know what else was discussed that evening.”

  “Nothing of consequence. He’d been consulting with the FBI and then he was called away after the crash of the Pan Avia 767. I e-mailed him what little information I’d gathered.”

  “You identified the man in the photo?”

  “Yes. Nathan Strauss—he’s one of yours.”

  “Not exactly.” Keller put his fingertips together and brought them to his chin. “Mr. Strauss is a person of interest to my government, but we’ve been unable to locate him. I was hoping to enlist your help in narrowing that search.”

  Lauren didn’t for a second miss the fact that something had just gone off kilter. “If you want to locate a fellow Mossad officer, I’m sure the FBI would gladly assist.”

  “Nathan Strauss is certainly not Mossad,” Keller replied. “At this point I don’t know for sure if Mr. Strauss is involved in any of the recent events in Florida or here in Virginia, so I’m sure you can understand my reluctance to call in the FBI when there may be nothing amiss.”

  “I’m certainly not a professional diplomat, but what I see is a Mossad agent trying to track down one of his own while maintaining enough distance to maintain plausible deniability.”

  “Well said, Dr. McKenna.” Keller gave her a respectful nod. “There are, of course, diplomatic considerations in this matter, but first and foremost I’m trying to uncover the scope of Nathan Strauss’s actions, if there are any. It is, however, a matter that directly impacts you and your daughter’s safety.”

  “Is that a threat?” Buck said, breaking his silence.

  “I’m not the threat, but if it’s Nathan Strauss we’re dealing with, then he’s most certainly a threat, one that you’ll stand very little chance of stopping.”

  “I can’t help you,” Lauren replied. “I shouldn’t even be talking with you right now. I can’t work with any member of a foreign government without the approval of my supervisor at the DIA.”

  “Dr. McKenna, I believe there’s a distinct possibility that Nathan Strauss and the death of your husband are linked. Your husband thought strongly enough about this threat that he teamed up with FBI Special Agent Montero to try and stop Strauss. I believe those actions were unsuccessful and may have resulted in their deaths. Nathan Strauss is as deadly as they come, and I need to find him.”

  “What is it you think I can do?” Lauren replied.

  “I have a theory, but I need access to the distress calls sent from the Eco-Watch plane. I have reason to believe that Strauss may have stolen the plane from Kingston. He would have then sent the distress calls to give the impression of a crash and then flown the airplane somewhere else. It’s why there hasn’t been any wreckage located.”

  “Why would Strauss be in the cockpit of an Eco-Watch Gulfstream?” Lauren’s mind was reeling with the sudden implications. “Wait, are you trying to tell me that my husband has been kidnapped? Do you think he might still be alive?”

  Keller held up his palms. “Please, Dr. McKenna. I know what I’ve said comes as a shock. I’m very sorry. It’s not my intention to offer up any false hope. In fact, I very much doubt that your husband, his first officer, or Special Agent Montero are still alive. If it’s Strauss, he has no reason to keep hostages. He’s trained to kill anyone who may be able to identify him. My theory is that Strauss stole the Gulfstream and kidnapped all aboard to cover his tracks.”

  “What’s the potential threat if Strauss has the Gulfstream?” Buck asked. “What can he do with it?”

  “Anything he wants,” Keller replied. “Strauss was a Special Missions pilot within the Israeli Defense Force. For almost two decades he was involved in clandestine missions in a wide variety of aircraft, including the Gulfstream. Hands down, he’s one of the most skillful pilots Israel has ever produced. If he has a Gulfstream, it’s because it’s the airplane he needs for his mission.”

  “Is this something that Strauss has done before?” Buck asked. “Steal a plane and fake a crash?”

  “All I can say is that the tactic, in theory, works,” Keller replied.

  “Did he steal the Gulfstream from Boca Raton?” Lauren asked. “Is he the one who shot Michael Ross?”

  “It’s possible, though again, I have no proof.”

  “You seem well informed,” Lauren said. “So you should know that actual Air Traffic Control tapes are never released to the public, transcripts perhaps, but not the actual tapes.”

  “You and I are not the public.”

  “What is it you hope to prove?” Buck said.

  “I have a voice imprint of Nathan Strauss. I believe if we compare it to the actual distress call, we’ll find a match.”

  “Then what?” Buck asked.

  “Then we have him positively linked to activity that requires the immediate action of both our governments. For obvious political reasons I would like to confirm this before I sound the alarm.”

  “He’s working without the knowledge of your government? Why? What went wrong?” Lauren asked. The possibility Donovan had been murdered made it difficult for her to collect her thoughts.

  “Strauss was injured and forced to retire. I’ll admit that perhaps my government didn’t do enough to follow up on him. There is no forgiveness for our shortsightedness. Strauss suffered from injuries that virtually destroyed his right hip and damaged his lower vertebrae. It’s a miracle he isn’t confined to a wheelchair. In retrospect, it’s thought that he also suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder. At some point, Strauss may have had a full psychotic break, possibly aided by the enormous amounts of narcotics he was forced to take to combat his chronic pain. We lost track of him, as well as three other pilots from his former unit, men who would follow him without question. Each of them is extremely dangerous.”

  “But the man who tried to kill Michael Ross and Dr. McKenna here in Virginia has been identified by the FBI as part of a jihadist group trained in Yemen,” Buck said. “How does that fit with a psychotic Israeli soldier?”

  “Former soldier,” Keller corrected. “I’m not at liberty to discuss specific recent events, but there is a remote possibility that Strauss may have acquired the means to manipulate certain deep-cover terrorist networks.”

  “He’s not working alone, is he? Someone’s helping him,” Lauren snapped. “Strauss has sources inside your government,
which is why you need to find Strauss and then uncover his handlers.”

  “This is a potentially devastating dilemma, which is why I need your help, Dr. McKenna. I came here for two reasons. I need to compare those voiceprints without setting off international alarms, and I’m also here to offer you immediate round-the-clock protection to counter any threat that may exist.”

  Buck started to talk, but Lauren silenced him with a quick look and a raised hand. “Mr. Keller, I’ve heard enough. You’ve got a big problem floating around out there, and I strongly suggest you take this to the FBI. Play the Nathan Strauss crazy card, maintain your deniability, but you need to find him without my help.”

  “I understand.” Keller stood and smoothed his suit. He reached into his pocket and held out a business card to Lauren. “Dr. McKenna, I can’t thank you enough for your time. I wish you the best. I hope I’m wrong and that your safety isn’t in jeopardy.”

  Lauren took the card and immediately felt something attached to the back. A quick glance told her it was a small jump drive. Keller had strategically positioned it to be invisible to Buck. When she looked in Keller’s eyes, she caught a glimpse of what she could only describe as a final plea for her help.

  Lauren slid the card and jump drive into her pocket and let Buck show Keller to the door.

  “Are you okay?” Buck said as he returned to the living room.

  “I don’t really know,” Lauren replied. “That was so strange. I don’t know what to think.”

  “From my standpoint, this situation just got ten times worse. It’s one thing to have some jihadists trying to kill you, and it’s quite another to have a former Israeli Defense Forces team who wants you dead. You might be right about getting out of here and finding a safe house. Right this moment you’re far too easy to find.”

  “I can’t process all of this right now.” Lauren rubbed her temples.

  “I’m going to brief Andy—I think we need to bring in some more people and widen the perimeter.”

  “Wait.” Lauren reached out and clutched Buck’s arm. “Is this beyond what we can do? I mean, I don’t want you or anyone else to get hurt because of me.”

  “Don’t worry.” Buck shook his head. “All that’s happened is we have a better idea who our enemy is, and we might need to ramp up security. You’re safe, and I’ll continue to keep you and Abigail safe. Please believe that.”

  “I do.” Lauren tried to smile, but she knew her effort fell short. She wondered how much death he’d been surrounded by as a SEAL. He seemed to know when to talk and when to act. Lauren was thankful and appreciative for his presence.

  As Buck went out the front door, Lauren went to the study where she ripped the jump drive free from the card and slid it into the USB port. She discovered two files. One was an audio file labeled “Nathan Strauss”; the second was a JPEG simply titled “Strauss.” She double-clicked the JPEG.

  A slideshow started and she watched as one by one, still images filled the screen. Underneath were short descriptions. The first few were black-and-white photos taken inside a living room. There were four bodies; the caption explained the victims were three professional assassins and one FBI agent. It was suspected they were all killed by Nathan Strauss.

  The next photos were taken at another crime scene after the victim had been removed. The caption revealed that the blood was Michael’s and the outline was where Donovan had found him. Lauren felt her stomach lurch at the starkness of the image. The next picture was from the hospital in Florida—a man lying on the floor of a hospital corridor, half of his head appeared to be gone. It was the man sent to kill Michael, the one that Montero had stopped.

  The next series of shots were of Donovan and Montero. They were talking to an overweight man in what appeared to be a gun shop. Montero was throwing bills on the counter. The scene that came up next looked like a back room where the same overweight man sat at a computer. Lauren covered her mouth as Nathan Strauss pointed a gun and fired. The overweight man’s brains splattered onto the screen. The next image was a close up of the computer monitor. Lauren forced herself to look beyond the carnage until she understood what she was seeing. It was Donovan and Montero—earlier footage from when they were in the shop. Strauss had been looking for this, and when he found it, he’d killed the man. The pictures that followed were in vivid color. A dead girl lying in a parking lot. Another body in a different parking lot followed by a man stuffed into the trunk of a car. The slideshow ended. Keller wasn’t being subtle. He wanted her to believe that Strauss had killed them all, as well as Kyle, Montero, and Donovan.

  Lauren pondered her options, and decided that as persuasive as Keller was, she wasn’t going to help him. It was his responsibility to be proactive—not hers. If Strauss was involved then the world could deal with him without her involvement. She yanked the jump drive out of the computer and jammed it into her pocket, suddenly very tired of her surroundings, exhausted by the ever-changing complexities of her current situation. Everything around her in this house spoke of her life with Donovan. He was dead, and when it was revealed that Donovan Nash was in reality Robert Huntington, Donovan’s existence would evaporate and cease to exist. This home would simply be a house. She’d married a ghost, a mirage, and now there was no reason to stay. Why fight the inevitable? The life she’d had was over. When she finished packing, she and Abigail would get on the chartered plane and be gone by tomorrow morning.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  The tent flap was thrown open and Strauss, wielding a knife, went straight to Montero. He quickly sliced the restraints holding her to the tent pole and yanked her to her feet by her wrists. Then he hit her in the stomach with a savage blow that dropped her to her knees. He moved behind her, cut her ankle restraints, and pulled her to her feet by her hair.

  “Need any help?” Strauss’s sidekick stood in the doorway, a pistol in his hand. “She’s quite the hellcat when she’s awake.”

  “I dare you to come closer and say that,” Montero spat.

  “I’ve got this, Rafael,” Strauss said. “Make sure all the charges are set. I don’t want anything left of this place after we leave.”

  “They’re ready.” Rafael leered at Montero. “I’m just saying we might have time for some fun. Last time we met her we were in a bit of a rush.”

  Montero tried to leverage Nathan’s feet out from under him, but her leg kick found only air.

  Strauss pressed the blade of his knife hard against her throat and whispered, “If you fight, I’ll give you to him. He’ll hurt you before he’s finished, and you’ll suffer enormously all the way to D.C.”

  Montero’s struggles ended, but hatred burned in her eyes. Strauss shoved her from the tent.

  The flap on the tent hadn’t fully closed. Donovan twisted against his restraints and was rewarded with his first view of the outside world. The setting sun cast long shadows, but it was still light out. Through the trees, he could see the back half of the da Vinci under the camouflaged netting. The baggage door was open, and on the ground next to the Gulfstream sat a worktable and a toolbox. He spotted two orange boxes on the table—the da Vinci’s cockpit voice recorder and the flight data recorder. Nathan had removed them so no taped evidence would be on board when it was found. Donovan had no idea what modifications had been made to his jet, but the thought of what Nathan had planned seemed all the more real at the sight. He’d also told Montero that Washington D.C. was the target.

  They were getting ready to leave. Charges had been set to obliterate the camp. True to form, Strauss was following his scorched-earth policy, leaving nothing in his wake that would trace back to him. He thought of Meredith, she’d been alone as well. Had she known the bullet was coming? Had she been afraid? Donovan had no problem admitting that he didn’t want to die—that he felt the fear. He’d left so much undone, so many loose ends that would forever be neglected. With everything he knew about being the survivor, the guilt that never ended, how had he managed to leave Lauren and Abigail with so
many unanswered questions?

  It didn’t take long. Donovan offered no resistance when Strauss came for him. Once his ankle restraints were cut, he found his balance to be precarious after having been prone for so long. Strauss propelled him forward by pushing the barrel of a gun into his spine.

  Once outside the tent, beyond the da Vinci, Donovan could see what passed for a runway. The jungle gave way to a narrow ribbon of compressed oil and dirt. He recognized it for what it was—an old oil company service road. It was once a common practice. Oil was mixed with and compacted with the soil to harden the surface of the road. The method also cut down on the dust and kept the jungle from encroaching on the road.

  “It’s a little more than a mile long and not much wider than the wheelbase of a Gulfstream,” Strauss said, as if reading the expression on Donovan’s face. “Just long enough to get a Gulfstream in and out.”

  Rafael came bounding down the air stairs of the Gulfstream. “I’ve got her on board. I just need a syringe.”

  Strauss handed Rafael a small leather pouch, and then ordered Donovan to walk down a narrow path.

  “I’m guessing this place was once used by drug smugglers,” Donovan said.

  “It was a long time ago. It was abandoned when I found it. But it was drug smugglers who inspired me. They’ve been penetrating American airspace with impunity for decades, and your government has been unable to do much about it. It only seemed logical to borrow their techniques—and add a few of my own.”

  “You’re not just smuggling the anthrax, are you? You’re going to disperse it over Washington.”

  “It’s of no concern to you.”

  “Why? You’re not a terrorist,” Donovan said, but he still couldn’t get any kind of read from Strauss. The Israeli was intelligent and methodical, as well as a blank slate. Was he a soldier so well trained that his focus was single-minded, or was he a cold-blooded sociopath?

  “It doesn’t matter who I am. Only that the blame is placed on Islamic extremists who would love to commit such an act if they had the ability.”