Andrew Britton Bundle

by Andrew Britton

  The Iranian managed to look confused. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

  “I know who you are, Hakim. I know what you’ve been telling the Bureau, and I know you’re full of shit. The Iranians were never part of this. Individual people, maybe, but not the regime in Tehran.”

  Rudaki shook his head slowly. “Everything I’ve said is the truth.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Kealey snarled. “The Bureau may have bought it, but I don’t.” He looked at Crane. “What’s he been telling you now? That Ahmadinejad is targeting the UN?”

  Crane looked startled. “As a matter of fact, yes. But security is so tight that—”

  “Save it, Samantha. Don’t try to play dumb. I know you have a part in this.”

  She stood up, her fists balled by her side. “What are you talking about?” she shouted.

  “Sit down!”

  “No!” She planted her feet and glared at him. “You’d better explain yourself right now, Ryan, or—”

  “The raid in Alexandria,” Kealey said, cutting her off. He stared at her intently. “You were so fucking quick to go in, weren’t you? Why? Was it just to shut Mason up?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “What happened after that? Hold on,” he said sarcastically. “Let me guess. You found out that we had Mason’s laptop, and you knew you had to get it back, because it had Thomas Rühmann’s name on it. But that didn’t happen in time, did it? We got the name before you could act, so instead, you told Vanderveen where to find us.”

  She didn’t rise to the bait, so Kealey raised his voice, trying to get through to her. “He nearly killed me and Naomi Kharmai in Berlin, Crane. It had to be you…Aside from you and Ford, no one else knew we were going to Germany.”

  “I don’t know what you’re—”

  “Stop.” She fell silent, and he shook his head in disgust. “The only question is, what are you getting out of it?” He looked at her hard, trying to see what was behind those angry brown eyes. “It’s money, isn’t it? How much did it take to buy you off, Sam?”

  Rudaki was starting to look nervous, Kealey noticed, which wouldn’t mean much by itself, but combined with Crane’s expression, it was cause for concern. She looked furious, but also genuinely confused, and while he knew it could be an act, he had seen people try to act their way out of bad situations before. This looked real, and for the first time since he’d learned that Crane was running Rudaki, he felt a tremor of doubt.

  “Vanderveen? Will Vanderveen?” She gave an incredulous laugh. “You think I’ve been passing him information?”

  “I know you have,” he said through gritted teeth. His finger was tightening on the trigger, the muzzle level with Crane’s heart. “You can’t lie your way out of this. It had to be you. Don’t you get it? Even if you discount the other shit as coincidence, no one else knew about Berlin.”

  Crane scoffed. “What, I’m supposed to take your word on that? If anyone’s been feeding Vanderveen information, it’s probably someone at Langley.”

  That’s not possible,” Kealey said, but he hesitated. Even through the blustering and the sarcasm, her innocence shone through like a beacon he couldn’t ignore. “Crane, I’m only going to ask you this one time. Did you tell anyone what Ford told you? Anyone at all?”

  She shrugged, as if the question was meaningless. “I told my partner, of course, but I tell him—”

  “Who’s your partner?”

  “Matt Foster,” she reminded him. “From the warehouse in Alexandria, remember? He’s the one who shot Mason.”

  “And what did you tell him?”

  “Everything,” Crane replied, finishing her earlier sentence. She was starting to sound annoyed, and Kealey realized that, gun or no gun, her cooperation was coming to an end.

  “He was on administrative leave while they investigated the shooting,” Crane continued. “But after they cleared him, he decided to stay in Washington instead of coming back here.” Her mouth twitched, a light coming on in her eyes, and Kealey had a sudden insight. It was subtle, but the look on her face suggested that her relationship with Foster went beyond a mere partnership. “I had drinks with my aunt a few nights ago, and when I got back to the hotel, I told him everything.”

  “What night did you see your aunt?”

  “Tuesday. Tuesday night at the Monocle.”

  The night before he and Naomi had flown to Berlin. Kealey shook his head, trying to think it through. “So what happened in Alexandria? You said you got an anonymous tip that Mason was there…?”

  “That came through Matt,” Crane confirmed. “He took the call in New York, and I asked the ADIC to call Washington and get us in on the raid. After all, we had been looking for Mason for months, and the tip came through our FO. It was only fair that we should have a part in bringing him down.”

  “Could Foster be sure of being there?”

  “Of course,” Crane shot back. “He’s my partner, for one thing, and I have…advantages.” Kealey knew she was referring to her relationship with Rachel Ford. “Besides, Matt has connections as well. His father spent twenty years as an agent. He finished as the SAC in Houston, and he still has plenty of friends in the Bureau.”

  He looked at Rudaki. “So you’ve been working with Foster.”

  “No! I have no idea what you’re—”

  “Matt had nothing to do with this!” Crane shouted, cutting off Rudaki’s denial. “And you can’t prove otherwise, so stop accusing him!”

  “Save it,” Kealey snarled. He gestured to Rudaki. “What else has this guy been telling you? What’s supposed to happen today?”

  She looked at her informant and took a deep breath, as if deciding how much to say. “He said the Iranian government was working with Rühmann. They’re supposed to hit the UN this afternoon.”

  “How?” Kealey addressed the question to Crane, even though Rudaki was right there. He still wasn’t sure of Crane’s role in all of this, but he definitely didn’t trust the Iranian to give up the truth, even at gunpoint.

  “He didn’t say,” Crane said. “But it doesn’t matter. We’ve already locked down the whole area. It would have to be a bomb, but even if the Iranians have one, they won’t be able to get it within two blocks of the target. It would never work.”

  “The Iranians are not behind this, Sam. It’s Will Vanderveen, and he does have a bomb. A very large one.” Kealey turned back to Rudaki and pointed the gun at his face. “And you know something about it, so start talking.”

  “I have no idea what you’re—”

  “I’ll ask you once more,” Kealey said, struggling to keep his voice calm. “And then I’m going to shoot you. Do you understand?”

  Rudaki looked to Crane, who looked in turn to Kealey. She scowled and said, “You’d better be bluffing, Ryan. If you do this, I will personally make sure you spend the rest of your life in prison.”

  “I have the gun, Samantha, and I’m still not convinced of your innocence. You might want to keep that in mind. The only reason I’m not putting these questions to you is because of your position.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I can’t hurt you to get the truth,” he explained. “And I don’t want to, even though you probably deserve it. But I can hurt him, and that’s just what I plan to do unless he starts talking.”

  “Bullshit,” she said simply. “You’re bluffing.”

  “You can’t let this happen,” Rudaki said, looking at Crane. Some of his bluster was starting to fade. “You’re with the FBI, and this man is threatening me. Do something.”

  “Where’s the fucking bomb?” Kealey shouted.

  Rudaki looked at the gun, then at Kealey’s face. “I don’t—”

  The shot sounded like an explosion in the small room. Hakim Rudaki screamed in agony, his eyes wide in horror. He clutched at his ruined knee and slid from the bed to the floor, blood pumping between his fingers.

  “Jesus Christ!” Crane screamed, dropp
ing her arms. “What the hell are you…?”

  Kealey never heard the rest of her question. He was on the ground, his left hand wrapped in Rudaki’s hair, his gun jammed under the other man’s chin. He was screaming the same question over and over, his face an inch from Rudaki’s. “Where’s the bomb? Where is it? Tell me, you piece of shit! Tell me!”

  Kealey was aware of Crane’s hands on his shoulders. She was trying to pull him back, and it briefly occurred to him that if she was in on it, she wouldn’t even be in the room; she would have gone for her gun in the hall. The fact that she hadn’t only reinforced her innocence.

  He shrugged her off and kept screaming the question. Finally, through gritted teeth, Rudaki howled a name.

  “What? What was that?”

  “Nazeri! I don’t know anything about a bomb! I only know the name, I swear to God….”

  “Nazeri? Who is he? Where is he?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “The Iranian government was never behind this, was it?” Rudaki seemed to hesitate, and Kealey shouted the question again.

  “No,” Rudaki gasped. His face was covered in sweat, and Kealey could tell he was about to pass out. “Tehran never had a hand in it. The whole thing started in Iraq.”

  “With who?” Kealey demanded. “Who in Iraq?”

  Rudaki shook his head, his face contorted with pain. “I never dealt with the top people. Just intermediaries.”

  “Like Vanderveen, right? You dealt with Vanderveen?”

  “Yes. I dealt with Vanderveen and…” He nodded at Crane, who had been watching the exchange with a mixed expression of shock and disbelief. “Her partner.”

  It was irrefutable proof; at this point, Rudaki would gain nothing by lying. Kealey shot a glance at Samantha Crane. She was staring at the Iranian informant, her face frozen. “This whole time?” she finally managed to choke out. “I don’t believe it. You’re lying.”

  Rudaki shook his head weakly. “It’s the truth. I swear it.”

  “You’re lying,” Crane repeated, but the words had lost their conviction. “It can’t be true. It’s not possible. It’s just not…”

  Her voice faltered, but instead of collapsing into herself, she suddenly sprinted forward. “You fuck!” she screamed. “You fucking—”

  Kealey was caught off-guard by the sudden outburst, but he managed to restrain her in time, wrapping her up from behind. “We don’t have time for this,” he said in a low, urgent voice. “He’ll get what’s coming to him, and so will Foster.”

  He could feel her trembling in his arms; her whole body was shaking with rage. “Come on, calm down, okay? I’m going to let you go. Don’t do anything crazy. Stay calm.”

  He released her cautiously. Then he asked for her phone, having left his in the car. As she pulled it out of her pocket and handed it over, he pushed her into the hall, then followed her out. He was careful to keep his body between her and Rudaki, who was still lying on the floor in the bedroom, moaning in agony.

  “We have to call the FO,” Crane said. She was still flushed and breathing hard. “They can get a location on Nazeri in less than a minute.”

  “In a second,” Kealey said. He was already punching in Naomi’s number. He wanted to give her a heads-up first, and then they would bring the whole world crashing down on this Nazeri character. He let out a long breath, letting some of the tension ebb. It seemed like everything was in hand; the meeting at the UN was still hours away. Soon he would have Nazeri’s location, and when he got there, Kealey had no doubt that he would find Will Vanderveen and the BLU-82. At this point, the only thing he had to worry about was killing Vanderveen before he could set off the bomb.

  But then he lifted the phone to his ear, and everything changed.

  CHAPTER 51

  NEW YORK CITY

  “Hello?”

  He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it, wondering if somehow he’d dialed the wrong number. Bringing it back to his ear, he said, “I’m looking for Naomi Kharmai, but I think I have the wrong—”

  “Is this Ryan? Ryan Kealey?”

  “Yeah.” A little shock there, with the name recognition. “And you are…?”

  “Matt Foster. We’ve met before.”

  Kealey froze, a quiver of fear running through his chest. What was Foster doing with Naomi’s phone? He glanced at Crane. She looked back at him inquiringly, but he didn’t have time to bring her into this. “Uh…yeah, I remember you.”

  “I thought you might. We met in Alexandria.”

  “That’s right,” Kealey said. His mind was racing. “Where are you?”

  “Just out and about.” There was a smile in the other man’s voice, but there was nothing pleasant about it. “Checking leads, following up, you know. The usual.”

  “Right, well…Is Naomi there?”

  There was a long silence. “I’m afraid she’s indisposed at the moment.”

  Kealey closed his eyes. Indisposed? What did that mean? Surely not what it sounded like. Surely not that.

  He couldn’t have killed her; there was no reason to do so. Unless Naomi had somehow figured it out first and confronted him, and Kealey didn’t see how that would be possible. But this wasn’t getting him anywhere. He had to get off the phone and think it through. “Will you tell her I need to talk to her?”

  “Sure.” Foster’s tone was a little too pleasant. “Can I have a quick word with Samantha?”

  For a second, Kealey thought the other man was trying to trick him into giving something away. Then he remembered that he was using Crane’s phone, and the number would have come up on Foster’s screen.

  He looked at Crane. Her face had lost all of its color, and her eyes were wide and glazed over. The rage was gone, at least for the moment, but she looked utterly drained. He knew he couldn’t put her on the line; she was still reeling from Foster’s betrayal on two fronts. Judging from the show of emotion he’d just witnessed, she would give it away in a second.

  “She’s also indisposed,” Kealey said, “but if you want, I can—”

  “Tell me something, Ryan. Since you’re using her phone, I assume you’ve had a talk with her. Did you happen to talk to Hakim Rudaki as well?”

  Kealey was gripping the phone so hard he thought it would break, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Agent Foster, I don’t know what—”

  “Sure you do,” the other man said amiably. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, but I’m afraid that leaves us with a little problem. Have you called the Bureau yet?”

  Kealey struggled to keep his voice even. It was clear they were done with the false pleasantries. “No.”

  “Good. If you want your friend to live, you won’t try to track us down, and you won’t call the FO. Because if you do, and my fellow agents show up to gun me down, the last act of my life will be to cut her pretty little throat. Do I make myself clear?”

  “You fuck,” Kealey rasped. “If you touch her, I swear to God, I’ll—”

  “You’ll do nothing,” Foster said, his voice turning hard. “That isn’t too much to ask, is it? Just do nothing for the next hour. Unless you want Naomi back in pieces, that is.”

  “Foster, you—” Kealey stopped and looked at the phone. The other man had already cut the connection. “Fuck!”

  “What?” Crane asked. She’d already collected and reloaded her weapon, and was slipping it back into her holster. “What happened?”

  “It’s your partner. He’s got Naomi.”

  Crane shook her head slowly; she was still trying to get her mind around what she had just learned. This was just too much to handle. “How is that even possible?”

  “I don’t know, but he said if we call the FO, he’ll kill her.” Kealey leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to block out the sound of Rudaki’s low moans in the next room. He felt numb. Finally, he opened his eyes and started for the stairs. Crane followed, and as they bounded to the ground floor, he spoke to her over his shoulder. “I ha
ve to get in touch with Langley. They’ll give us an address for this Nazeri guy, and I’ll just…” He shook his head, unsure of how it had come to this. “I’ll just have to go in alone.”

  “Not a chance,” Crane said. Her voice was imbued with sudden determination. They hit the bottom of the stairs and moved for the door. Special Agent Mackie was still lying where Kealey had dragged him earlier. Behind him, he heard Crane ask, “Is he going to be okay?”

  “He’ll be fine,” Kealey said. They reached the Accord. Kealey thought it said a lot about the neighborhood that no one had come to investigate the shot he’d fired into Rudaki’s leg, but there were sirens on the horizon as he unlocked the door and looked over the roof at Samantha Crane.

  “I don’t think you should be part of this,” he said. “I have a habit of wrecking people’s careers, including my own.”

  “At this point, that’s the last thing I’m worried about.” She hesitated. “He may have your friend, Ryan, but he betrayed my trust, and he betrayed the Bureau. I can’t let that go. I’m coming with you, and that’s final.”

  He nodded; he couldn’t argue with anything she’d said. “Fine. Let’s go.”

  On the corner of Thirty-fourth and Eighth, Special Agent Matt Foster disconnected the call, aware that he’d cut Kealey off in mid-sentence. He stared out the windshield for a few seconds, wondering how it had come to this. All he’d wanted to do was keep Kharmai busy until the bomb reached its target, but somehow, Kealey had managed to find Crane and Rudaki. His arrangement with Will Vanderveen had made him an extraordinarily wealthy man, but even in his wildest dreams, he’d never thought he would need the money so soon. With this development, he had no choice; he’d have to leave the country immediately.

  He cursed under his breath. He was completely unprepared. At the very least, he would need a false passport, but getting one would take time, time he didn’t have. In a matter of hours, he would become one of the most wanted men in the world. Given the situation, there was only one option left to him.