When this was over, he would kill Zelig, kill Barratt, have his uninterrupted way with Robyn Mills, and then he would hunt down Shirin Reyes. He had a feeling she would be an exciting addition to his conquests.
The young girl knelt in front of him, gripped the base of his erect penis, and slowly took it deep into her mouth.
18:18:46
Agent Lipski dropped the phone back into its cradle. Zelig would not be happy. Shirin Reyes. The team at Ben Mills' apartment was dead, Mills was gone, and Shirin Reyes was definitely responsible. Zelig had been right in understanding that she would try to rescue him.
The two EMR teams had arrived moments after Shirin and Ben must have left the building.
Agent Zelig was "in mission" and could not be contacted. For that, Agent Lipski was immeasurably grateful. For now.
Being the bearer of such news was never good. Not with Director Zelig.
Smith had also reported in. Barratt and the Robyn Mills girl had escaped. Not without injury, according to Smith. Perhaps that was the biggest surprise of all. It was unheard of for Smith to have failed.
Director Zelig had left specific instructions he was not to be disturbed until after 1900 hours, no matter what the circumstance. Agent Lipski felt torn between doing what he knew was right and what his boss had told him. He chose doing what was right.
He picked up the phone and called the security team attached to Director Zelig.
18:22:25
Minister Jordan's detail arrived at the airport terminal security gate with little fanfare. It was the purpose of the side entrance and obscure, guarded access road to avoid attention. It was an entrance accessed only by the elite of business, celebrity, or government personnel. Minister Jordan was such a personality.
Charlie, a battle-hardened ex-marine, had been on her detail since her appointment. He had a hard face, one which made her feel safe. There was never a smile there, but in his eyes, she sensed a warmth that reassured her he was human.
"Please wait here, ma'am," he said politely, while he exited the vehicle and walked its perimeter, investigating the environment she would be entering.
From her seat, she could see the airport police representative meet with Charlie a few feet from her window. Charlie inspected the man's identification, handed it back, then grudgingly nodded his head to the driver of Minister Jordan's sedan.
Charlie came to her door, opened it, and invited her out. He didn't offer his hand but kept it free and ready in the event of an engagement.
One of Charlie's men flanked her left side, another her right, and the fourth member of the team came in behind her. Charlie took the point. As one unit, they walked to the security bay of the airport hangar. They were forever alert.
It seemed overkill to Minister Jordan, but it was their job, and they were consummate professionals. She had a deep respect for these men, and in that, she aided them and did as they asked without complaint. Much like now.
The team escorted her inside, where their formation opened up and allowed her access to the VIP security terminal. They would not accompany her on the flight this time. Instead, they would hand over their charge to the secondary team.
"Have a good flight, ma'am," Charlie said as he stepped back.
"Thanks, Charlie. See you in a few days." Minister Jordan did her best to smile, gave a semi-convincing nod, and started to load her luggage onto the conveyor belt for scanning by airport security.
On the other side of the scanning machines, her new team waited to receive her and escort her onto the plane.
Her on-board luggage disappeared into the large box-like X-ray machine. She approached the walkthrough scanner, remembering she was still holding Zelig's parcel.
She gestured to the parcel, informed the guard it was a diplomatic pouch, and walked through the scanner. It buzzed. Its indicator light flashed red. The security officer at the end of the conveyor belt moved forward with his metal detector wand. He didn't look impressed, nor particularly hurried. It was normal for the machine to be either too sensitive or not accurate enough.
The officer waved the wand above Minister Jordan's extended arms, and it buzzed again as it passed over the parcel. This was the first diplomatic pouch she had accompanied, but she understood the regulations. It was appropriately labeled, and they were not allowed to withhold it, X-ray it, or open it. Nor was she to be searched, as its official companion. A silly, antiquated Cold War-era law that had somehow maintained its significance in an otherwise modern government.
"I'm sorry, Minister Jordan, but I'm afraid we will have to scan this parcel," the officer said tentatively.
"I don't think so, Officer…" she leaned in closer to read his name badge, "Officer Wenbey. This is a diplomatic pouch, and under the VCDR, Article 27.4, this parcel is not to be opened, X-rayed, or detained in any way." She was very good at memorizing procedural mandates. "So if you don't mind, my plane is waiting, with my husband in it. I'd really like to be on board before it leaves."
Minister Jordan wasn't in the mood for a confrontation. Not with anyone other than her cheating husband, anyway. But this young upstart security officer was starting to agitate her. She was about to explode with a cutting dialogue when four federal cars came screeching to a halt just outside the doors with their lights on high beam and sirens blaring.
Distracted, everyone inside turned to see what was happening. Director Zelig stepped out from the rear seat of the leading car. He was all business, his face steely and cold, surrounded by nine agents as he hurried inside.
Pointing to Minister Jordan, he said, "Arrest her!"
His men fanned out, setting off the alarms of the metal detectors, ignoring protestations from airport police.
Minister Jordan couldn't believe what was happening. Arrested? What on earth was going on?
"Zelig! What do you think you're doing?" Minister Jordan objected while one of Zelig's agents pulled her hands behind her back and slapped on heavy metal handcuffs.
Zelig ignored her questions, pointed to the airport police officer who had scanned her through, and told him to radio his superior and get him to come down immediately.
Minister Jordan's security detail on both sides of the security scanners were bewildered at what was happening. They didn't know how to react. There was no immediate threat―that would have been easy. They were trained for that. But their charge being arrested? By the head of the most feared Agency in the country?
Charlie stepped forward. "On what charges are you arresting Minister Jordan, Director?"
Zelig looked up at the ex-marine and matter-of-factly said, "Treason."
All jaws dropped. There was nothing anyone could say. It was the one word none of them had contemplated in relation to Minister Jordan.
"I'll need you to secure the diplomatic pouch and come with me." Like a whirlwind, he steered his team toward the offices adjacent to the scanning booth and told the airport security team he was commandeering an interview room until their commanding officer arrived.
Minister Jordan was quickly shuffled into the room, out of the open space, and away from earshot. Her protestations were ignored, her rights explained to her, and like a common criminal, she was restrained and isolated.
18:28:14
Zelig paced in the adjoining room. He could see Minister Jordan through the two-way mirror. She was noticeably shaken, confused, and scared. He liked it. And he was only getting started.
Superintendent Mitchell entered the room, identified himself as the In-Charge for the evening, and requested a briefing of what was happening in his airport.
"Thank you for arriving so quickly, lieutenant. I am the Director of Counter Intelligence." He flashed his credentials. "This woman is Minister for Foreign Affairs Sue Jordan. We have arrested her for treason. She was in the act of smuggling top secret documents out of the country."
The Superintendent grunted."Serious charge, Director. I'm assuming you have proof of this claim?"
"I do, and it is considerably
above your pay grade. I suggest you remember that when you speak to me! I invited you here as a courtesy only. I don't answer to you! Do you understand, Superintendent?"
"Yes. Director. Perfectly," he said, stony-faced. Being berated was nothing new to a seasoned cop.
"I will be holding Minister Jordan here until my request for a search warrant for her person, her apartment, her office, and her car has been granted. I expect it to arrive shortly. You are to assist, and be responsible for chain of evidence. You will be working with one of my agents, and one of Minister Jordan's security detail. Do we understand each other?"
"We do, Director," the Superintendent said. He'd heard of Zelig, of course. And the rumors were true. He was a real prick. Unfortunately, his bite was just as bad as his bark.
chapter 8
"some bruises are too deep to see."
the book of seekay
18:33:32
Ben wandered the room while Shirin headed for the computer terminal. Barratt was not back yet. It worried her. He should have been back before her. She logged into her messaging service; no message. Checked their pre-arranged email service; no email. She didn't like it.
They had both gone in without phones, without trackers, just in case they were captured, but now, that precaution made it harder for her to locate him.
She logged onto the federal police database and ran a search for the false ID Barratt was carrying. Nothing. She pinged the credit card he had under that name. Nothing. She was running out of options.
Ben came up behind her as though he could sense her tension. "Any word on my sister?"
"Not yet." She didn't want to worry him further, but lying to him felt wrong. Instead, she compromised. "I'm trying to find them electronically. Otherwise, we wait."
Ben was tense. But he said nothing. What was there he could say that would help?
Shirin punched her hacked password and code into the police database and entered Robyn Mills' residential address to see if any disturbance or event had been lodged with the police. Nothing.
"What are you doing?" Ben asked, looking over her shoulder.
"They're not back yet. It could mean only two things in my mind. They're in trouble or they're being very careful coming back here so that they're not followed," she said flatly while tapping the keyboard. "I'm checking to see if there have been any disturbances or complaints lodged with the police in reference to your sister's address, her identification, or the identification my friend was using. So far, nothing."
"But that's a good thing, right? If they were in trouble, someone would have seen something, someone would have called the police, right?"
Shirin knew better than to make that assumption, but she hoped he was right.
"Why don't we just go to her house?" he asked, losing patience.
"Because there will definitely be people watching it. We wouldn't get to the front lawn before a team took us down."
Ben huffed and walked off. He hated being so helpless. His hands were still shaking from his escape, and he still had questions about what Shirin was involved in, if that was even her real name.
Why did he still trust her?
But overwhelmingly, he worried about his sister, and that somehow, because of him, because of his relationship with Shirin, she was in danger.
"Do you trust your friend?"
"Yes," she said, still working at the computer.
"Who is he? How do you know he's not one of them?"
"Because they tried to kill him, too. And he's my brother-in-law."
The screen to Shirin's right flashed with a pop-up box emblazed in red and black. It caught her attention instantly. Ben noticed her movement and rushed to her side.
"What is it?" he asked urgently.
"It's Barratt!"
"Barratt?"
"My brother-in-law. Trent Barratt. He's here, in the Plaza! This is an alert on his credit card. It was just used in a women's apparel store downstairs. Ninety seconds ago."
"That means my sister is with him! Right? Let's get down there!" Ben started for the side panel door.
"No," she said sternly, "wait. We have to be sure." She swiveled in her chair, attacked the keyboard with her fingers, and pulled up a collage of security camera feeds from inside the Plaza. "It could be a trap; they could have been followed. Barratt knows I'd be scanning his credit card if he didn't turn up, and he knows about my surveillance system inside the Plaza. He didn't come straight up here for a reason."
Shirin narrowed the field of camera feeds down to the area surrounding the location where Barratt's card was accessed. She had four different views of the area, but none showing the exact shop. She manipulated the viewing configuration to rewind back to three minutes prior to the purchase, then adjusted the replay to half speed.
They both leaned in closer to the screen, focused completely on the moving images. They were grainy, black and white, and clear only to the point of recognizing facial features but not facial expressions.
"That's her!" Ben almost shouted. "That's Robyn. That's my sister!" He thrust his finger at the screen and traced her walking with it.
Shirin was visibly relieved, but her brow still furrowed. "I don't see Barratt anywhere."
"What does that mean? She's alone? But how did she get here?"
"I'm not sure," Shirin mumbled, still searching the monitors. "He could be out of sight, trying to see if she's being followed." It didn't seem right, even as she said it. She sensed something she didn't want to acknowledge. Changing her train of thought, she stood suddenly. "Let's go get your sister."
Half a step away from the computer terminal Shirin stopped. She returned to the monitors, studied them closely.
"What is it?" Ben asked, sensing something wrong.
"She's being followed."
"By who? Can you see them? We have to get do down there before they get to her!"
Shirin didn't look away from the console of monitors; instead, she alternated her focused glare from one screen to the next, searching. "They're not here to grab her. They're following her. Hoping she'll lead them straight to us."
"How can you be so sure?"
"If they wanted to take her, they could've done it a long time ago. They're not approaching her. They're just watching her."
"Who? Which ones?"
"This one," she said, pointing to different images on the screen, "and this one. There could be more we can't see on these camera angles."
"But we can't just leave her out there!"
Ben was right. It was a trap, she was sure, but what choice did she have? And where was Barratt?
"I'm going down there," she said simply. "She'll be okay." Shirin walked to the counter, picked up her silenced Glock, checked the magazine, and tucked it behind her back into her belt.
"I'm coming with you." Ben followed her while trying to watch the monitors.
"No way, Ben! I need you here. "She threw on a tan pullover. "I'm going to need someone to be my eyes while I'm down there."
Off the supply counter, she took two burner phones and two Bluetooth earpieces. She handed one set to him. "I don't know how many of them are down there. I need you to talk me through it." She stood toe to toe with him. "Ben, I promise, I'll bring her back."
He couldn't say anything. She was right. He didn't like it, but he had to accept it. "What do you need me to do?"
"Keep following her on the video feeds. Each feed has a different number, a camera number. Just let me know which camera has the best angle of her. That will tell me where to go. Once I have her, you'll need to help me get out." She turned on her Bluetooth earpiece and placed it firmly in her ear.
She dialed her burner phone number into his and handed it back to him. "If we get disconnected, hit redial."
Ben didn't say a word, just nodded. He wished he was the one going after his sister. He wished he was the one looking after Shirin, but reality was awakening. He was way out of his depth. People had died. People were trying to kill him and trying to hu
rt everyone he cared about. This was not a world in which he felt comfortable or confident. Was this really the world where Shirin belonged?
18:41:24
"Can you hear me?" Shirin asked softly while riding the elevator down to the commercial level.
"Yes."
"Where is Robyn now?"
"Um…outside a clothing store. Witchery, I think. She hasn't moved since you left."
"What camera number?"
"Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight also has a view of her."
"Perfect. I'm not far from her. Keep me posted if she moves or if anyone comes close to her who doesn't look right."
"Will do."
Shirin exited the lift, turned right, and walked with purpose toward the escalators, which opened out onto the large shopping complex's main floor landing.
There was no way for her to convincingly identify all the people who may be following Robyn. It was not an ideal situation, but she didn't have a choice. Action was better than inaction.
As she rode the escalator into the main thoroughfare of the shopping center, the cool air conditioning and the energy of the shoppers was clearly distinct from the private and secluded executive floor she had just come from.
She stayed toward the middle of the large space, near the glass balustrade that overlooked the eight large shopping floors via one huge viewing space, covered with a sky-lighted vaulted ceiling. It was spectacular.
Out in the open she felt exposed, but from this position she was able to monitor those who might be watching. It was a trade-off, and the best she could do with limited resources.
Robyn was up ahead. Shirin could see her through the traffic of shoppers. "I see her," she said into her microphone earpiece.
"I can't see you," Ben muttered.
"Look at camera 32."
"I see you!"
"I'm going to walk past her, into the shop she just came out of. Tell me if anyone follows me into the store. Twenty-nine will give you a better view of who comes in behind me."
"Sure."
Shirin could sense his uncertainty, but she didn't have time to explain everything to him. She just had to trust he would do as she asked.
Against the Clock Page 17
