Instigator

by Fiona Quinn

  “They’re alive?” There was incredulity in Karl’s voice. And he’d said “they”. Nadir had said Bowman, a single name.

  Christen used the window as a reflective surface to see the interior and to give herself a look of preoccupation.

  “Both, yes, the husband and wife were taken to an American army hospital in Europe and now they are home and released from their hospital in the states. They have been interviewed by the CIA and FBI according to the paper and cooperating fully in trying to find the perpetrators. Bowman’s political connections will see that this is pursued. His business relations will insist on a conclusion to the case.” Nadir shot a look around the car’s occupants to find everyone otherwise engaged. He lifted his voice a little. “This is, of course, very good news for the international business community. Executives need to feel safe travelling the world. We are, after all, in a global marketplace.”

  “What do you think this means in terms of the oil deal? Is he returning to Tanzania to develop a deal from Hesston Oil?”

  “The article says he’s decided to retire after this incident. Indeed, I believe this incident has cleared the playing fields.”

  In the window’s reflection, Christen caught the smile that flashed across Nadir’s face. She longed to pull out her phone and start an Internet search.

  “My father had a lunch appointment on the last day we were in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. He was supposed to meet with three members of the Tanzanian Energy department.” They were back to speaking in hushed tones. But the car wasn’t that big. It wasn’t like Christen couldn’t hear – or they weren’t being picked up on the audio-recording devices that both she and Johnna had on.

  “Lunch?”

  “It was a private, friendly get together. No official business was to be discussed.”

  Nadir gave a nod of understanding.

  “My father was jumped by four men and saved by his security team.”

  Again, Nadir made a sweep of the car’s occupants, before responding. “Do you know the names of the men he was meeting with?”

  “He’s still trying to find the right players, the right pressure points.” Karl said cryptically.

  “Momo Burhan was not at that meeting, I can assure you.” Nadir responded.

  “How exactly do you know that?”

  “He is dead.”

  “Momo’s dead?” Karl leaned forward and twisted his body toward Nadir. “How? When? Wait, how do you know that?”

  Nadir offered a closed lipped smile and tipped his head back, considered Karl as he looked down his nose at him. “Sources,” he said. “In terms of your ongoing negotiations, now that the eco-pawn is off the chess board, we can get some work accomplished.”

  “The problem with the Bowmans, followed by the attack in Ngorongoro Crater means that this region will be considered a hot spot. The men who come to work for us will want hazard pay. The cost of business will go up.”

  “Experts, yes. Of course, these incidents will also effect the local economy as tourism falls away, that means the locals will be desperate for new jobs and their wages will fall. It might end up that this works in your economic favor.”

  “Even if this is so, the businesses will have to be extremely lucrative to follow through.” Karl said. “Our continued cooperation is the only way to make this happen. I’m glad you were able to join our little adventure. Thank you for coming.”

  Nadir touched his hand to his heart. “May we always be friends.”

  “I never wish us to be enemies.” Karl touched his heart in return.

  The Indian looked up from his phone. Glanced from Nadir to Karl and back again. “The price of helium is up considerably today. This is very bad news for me. Very bad, indeed.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Lynx

  Friday, Panther Force War Room, Iniquus Headquarters

  “Hey, wake the hell up.” Nutsbe had his hand on Lynx’s shoulder.

  “What?” Her eyes popped open as she startled awake. Lynx cast her gaze around the room. Confused. Disoriented. “Oh, ha!” she said as she realized she’d fallen asleep in front of the computer. She rubbed her hands over her face. “I’m glad you woke me. I was having a horrible dream.”

  “Yeah? No, shit. At first, I left you alone ‘cause you were just kind of moaning, and I’d hate to wake you up if it was the good kinda dream.”

  Lynx wrinkled he nose. “Gosh, thanks.”

  “But when you flipped over to screaming ‘help!’ I assumed you weren’t enjoying a roll in the hay.”

  “Hardly.” She tapped at the computer and stared at the screen. “I don’t see a signal for the team’s comms. The only thing up is GPS. Looks like they’ve landed in North Sumatra and are driving to their trailhead. Have you talked to anyone?”

  “They’re off comms right now. I can get them on satellite phone in an emergency. That’s what you were yelling about. Gator and Christen. Turned my damned spine into an icicle the way you said it.”

  Lynx rolled her lips in and tried not show any emotion in front of Nutsbe. The stoicism that was part of the Strike Force DNA had a little glitch when it came to her genetic makeup. Lynx wore her heart on her sleeve. Though she tried hard to master her expressions, she wasn’t very successful at it.

  “That all sounded kinda woo-woo.” He did a jazz hands as he said it, and huffed a strained chuckle, like he was forcing it from a very small space. “I believe in it, though. My grandmother always knew when I was doing something bad when I was a kid. If I even started to do something I shouldn’t, the phone would ring. Inevitably, it was Nan asking me what the hell I thought I was doing. Straight and narrow it was for me. Yeah. She died just after I joined up.” He sniffed hard. “When my transport got hit, I swear she was kneeling there beside me. She wasn’t directing me to the light; she was yelling at me. Cussing me out.” He winced and gave a kind of hiccup laugh. “She wasn’t a cookie-baking grandma. She was more of the smokin’ and boozin’ kind.” He shook a finger in the air and made his voice craggy. “‘It is not your time, young man. Don’t you even think about it. Get yourself out of this junk pile and get yourself moving to the north. Move it.’ That vision saved my life. Everyone who was with me was dead. I was lying there in shock. I wouldn’t have crawled off my X if it hadn’t been for her. Wouldn’t have gotten far enough away when the second RPG hit the wreckage.” He spread his fingers wide and focused in the spaces between them.

  Lynx knew this was an anxiety technique. Look and label what you see, move to the next open space. It helped switch the brain to the here and now when it wanted to go relive something horrible.

  “Damned if the guy who picked me up didn’t say that an old lady in a pink pantsuit had told him where to find me in the trees; but when he turned, she was gone. Why there would be a woman in pink pants in the middle of Afghanistan, he never seemed to question. He said he was afraid she’d set him up for an ambush, so they went in slow. He described her and everything. It was Nan. It was definitely Nan.” Nutsbe was nodding at the wall as he told that story. A deep frown now pulled at the corners of his mouth. His eyes red and moist. “She saved my life.”

  Lynx put her hand on his shoulder and let him collect himself from that memory.

  When he finally turned Lynx said. “I’m so glad she did. I’m so glad to know you.”

  “Don’t know why I’m thinking about it.” He tried to force his frown into a smile. “Funny, I haven’t thought about it in a long time. Something about you saying Christen’s name…the tone of voice. You’re worried. Now, I’m worried.”

  “Weird dream – it seemed so real.” She tried to brush the lingering sensations off. “If you hear from Gator or Blaze. I do need to talk to them, though.”

  “Sure yeah, I’ll pass that along.”

  Lynx picked up a pen and tapped it on the desk, thinking. “My mentor, Spyder McGraw says there are no coincidences.”

  When Nutsbe looked her way, he’d wrestled his face back to neutral.


  “The web of connections is actually small, he said. It’s the whole Kevin Bacon distance game.”

  “I’m not following you, Lynx.”

  “My saying something in my sleep triggered a specific memory for you. If you follow Spyder’s philosophy, then my dreaming this specific thing, triggered your specific memory, your specific memory should inform my thoughts and actions.”

  “Okay that’s basic Carl Jung and the collective unconscious.”

  “Exactly. And what your story tells me is two-fold. One: Since you mentioned the way I said ‘Christen’ and you told your grandmother story, we take you out and put D-day in your place. That would tell us, she needs to get out of there. She needs to get off her mark. Something bad is heading her way.”

  Nutsbe dropped his jaw and tilted his head back, thinking. “I can see that train of thought. But what would we communicate to the team? We can’t pull Christen out of a mission without something solid.”

  “Yeah,” Lynx grimaced. “I had a dream and Nutsbe had a memory sounds—”

  “Nuts.”

  “Amen.”

  “But you said two-fold.” Nutsbe pointed out.

  “That’s the ‘six-degrees of separation from Kevin Bacon’ game. Though, I’m not seeing six degrees. I’m seeing one, maybe two degrees of separation from Gregor Zoric. We just dealt with the Zoric family. First, in February with Lacey Stuart when the Zoric family was using her to raise money to fund terrorist groups. Second time they showed up on our screen was when they were implementing terror at Suz Malloy’s elementary school and dragged her down to Paraguay. Does that seem like too big of a happenstance? And here they are again. The Zorics.” Lynx scraped her teeth over her upper lip. “Feels that way to me, too big of a happenstance. I think this falls into the Jung theory – the same story told around the world.” Her voice drifted off as she gazed at her lap, letting her thought percolate.

  “I’ve got one to add to your theory.”

  Lynx turned curious eyes toward Nutsbe. “Shoot.”

  “On the voice recording, Nadir was talking about the Bowmans being saved and Derek Bowman retiring from Hesston Oil.”

  “Okay.”

  “Yeah, well he was talking to Karl about Momo Bourhan.”

  “No kidding? Wow. In what context?”

  “Karl was referring to the lunch meeting—the one where Gator and Blaze saved the day—Nadir was saying that Momo didn’t go to a lunch meeting with William Davidson because he’s dead.”

  “Yeah he is.” Honey had made sure of it in order to save Meg and the other scientists.

  “Karl seemed to have the expectation that Momo would be there, and was completely surprised by the news of his death.”

  “How would Nadir know Momo was dead? I don’t think the Tanzanian government officially identified the terrorists yet.”

  “Karl asked the same thing – Nadir said, ‘sources.’ And then he said the eco-pawn is off the chess board, we can get some work accomplished.”

  “Eco-pawn, that’s not Momo. That’s Derek Bowman and his retirement.”

  “That’s how I read it. And now we have the confluence of the Zorics and Momo. What do they have in common?”

  “Terror.” She picked up her phone and pushed number four on her speed dial.

  “Jack here.”

  “Lynx here. Two quick questions. Down in Paraguay on your mission, you had an asset who gave up the name of the person who ordered the kidnapping of the children. Who was it?”

  “That was the mutterings of a dying man, Lynx. You know how the brain functions when you’re dying. It’s not like in the movies where there’s a moment of conviction, one last beautiful chance to right this life’s wrongs. It’s muddled chemical mush.”

  “Still. Humor me.”

  “Gregor Zoric.”

  “And there was a code name that your prisoner gave up. The name of the guy who wanted a video of the boys, what was that name?”

  “The Bear.”

  “K, thanks. Did I wake you?”

  “I was just drifting off. Do you need me down there? Are you on Gregor Zoric’s trail?” Jack sounded wide awake, champing at the bit.

  “We have a Gregor Zoric on our radar screen. I’m compiling data. If I get anything interesting. I’ll make sure you know. Thank you. Good night. Sorry to wake you.” She tapped the phone off and took a moment to jot the information on her sheet. “You know what I need?”

  Nutsbe pushed back in his seat. “Looks like you’ve got your nose to the ground. Warning though, this could be two different people. Several different people.”

  “Exactly. See?” She smiled. “Same wave length. I need to talk to Steve Finley at the FBI.”

  “Meg’s brother? You think she might be tied into this because of Momo’s attack in Ngorongoro?”

  “No, this doesn’t have anything to do with Meg. We have two interesting ties here. Momo’s name being on Nadir’s lips and a member of the Zoric family. Steve Finley was investigating the Zoric case. He’s in the terror unit and may very well know who Gregor Zoric is and the role he might be playing in this bizarre weekend party.” She pulled out her phone as she stood. “It’s starting to feel a little bit like the set-up for a game of Clue.”

  “Well if Miss Scarlet and Mrs. White were Johnna Red and Johnna White, you might be on to something. Hopefully with no body to be found in the parlor with a candlestick holder at the end of this.”

  “Amen to that. I’m going to head over to my office to call, I’ll let you know if I come up with anything interesting.”

  “Cool. I’ll work on the data that came in this morning from the team. See if anything else interesting happened on the way to the trailhead.”

  ***

  “This is urgent, but it’s not an emergency,” Lynx said into her phone as she walked into her Puzzle Room on the Strike Force corridor. “I can talk to you about this in the morning.” She flicked on the lights and smiled over to her Dobermans, Beetle and Bella, curled up on their beds watching her with uplifted brows.

  “This is fine.” Steve Finley said. “I may have to leap off at any second, though. We have an event playing out, and I’m waiting for an update. Until then, I was twiddling my thumbs.”

  Lynx sidled over to the other side of the room. She plopped down with the dogs. Beetle shifted until her head was in Lynx’s lap then rolled over until she was belly up. “Gregor Zoric,” Lynx cut right to the chase. “What do you know about him?”

  “Malicious asshole.”

  “Well,” Lynx laughed. “That was succinct.”

  “He’s got a starring role in the Zoric family. He’s ingratiated himself with the Russian oligarchs. He likes to live large. He’s a genius level IQ, manipulative as hell, and he doesn’t give a fu – ehm fig about anyone but himself. His power. His money. His ego. He’s also vicious and doesn’t mind inflicting pain in any form or variety to get what he wants. He kills with the same emotional investment as I have when I blow my nose.”

  “Crap.”

  “You’re not playing with Gregor are you?” She heard him tapping at his computer keys. “I have him in Singapore, and you’re calling me from DC so at least there’s some space between you.”

  “My sources say he’s in North Sumatra right now headed to William Davidson’s private island, Davidson Realm.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “The west side of Sumatra in the international waters of the Indian Ocean. He’s there for a business retreat.”

  “Interesting. Do you know the subject of the retreat?” Steve asked.

  “First, Medved’. That ring a bell?”

  “That’s Gregor’s nickname, it means the bear.”

  “Okay, next. The Levinski kids/Suz Molloy kidnapping in Paraguay. There was a player named the Bear who was on the other end of a satellite phone conversation when our operative Jack McCullen saved the hostages. There was also a man who was involved in Hezbollah financing, who was operating in Paraguay named Gregor Zoric�
�� Lynx was met with a silence that felt thick with thought. She was on the right track, she knew it. “I know the FBI is investigating the Levinski kidnapping case. I know you are the Zoric expert. Can I send you a picture? Could you confirm if these three players: Gregor Zoric who was mentioned as a financier, Medved’, the bear, who was mentioned as part of the kidnapping plot, and this Gregor whom we’re watching are actually the same player?”

  Lynx was met with that thick silence again. She tapped her computer and sent the picture over to Steve. Lynx could hear the ping of his computer as the picture landed in his mailbox.

  “I’m looking for a yes, or a no. In return, I’ll give you a heads up on what he’s up to in the Indian Ocean.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Yes…?”

  “All three are the same. Now why is he in your cross-hairs?”

  “Not cross-hairs. He’s on my radar. Why? I don’t know. He’s the guest of William and Karl Davidson. The Davidsons were in Tanzania talking to the energy department just prior to this trip. Helium has come up as a possible subject matter.”

  Steve said nothing.

  “My understanding is that Gregor has ties to Russian energy resources and Davidson has energy contracts with the Russian government.”

  “Okay,” Steve said, “and where does all that lead?”

  “To crazy town. These are all just pieces in the puzzle: a little bit of blue seems to fit together with another piece that has some green. I have no idea what the picture looks like. I can say that if your description of Gregor Zoric is accurate, then he could easily manipulate the Davidson men. Blaze and Gator are saying the Davidson men are palpably narcissistic and greedy. Dangle a little cash, stroke their egos…”

  “Helium. That’s interesting, actually. I was talking to—” There was a knock at his door and a conversation that was muffled and unintelligible. Steve came back on the line. “That’s me. I’ve got to go. I’ll run this by some folks see if I can’t dredge up something to help.”