by Roland Smith
“Where have you been?” Vanessa asked.
“I had some things to check out,” Boone answered. “X, what’s the story on the SUV?”
X-Ray nodded in the direction of one of the monitors. A grainy image of the empty warehouse, with the lonely vehicle parked in the center, occupied the screen.
“The cell put in a wireless camera to keep an eye on the SUV. I was able to piggyback the signal. The battery on the tracker only has another couple of hours of juice left. It’s probably too risky to try to sneak in and put on a new one. But I’ve hacked into all of the traffic cameras in the city and I’m working on the external security cameras on most of the major buildings within a twenty-block radius of the warehouse. Should have access in another few minutes.” X-Ray chuckled. “People think they can go buy a router with encryption from Radio Shack and their wireless signal is secure. What a joke.” He said it almost gleefully, which would have worried Boone if X-Ray weren’t incorruptibly honest.
“What about Malak’s plane?”
“I sent the GPS coordinates of where it landed to your phone,” X-Ray said. “It’s about thirty miles southeast of the city. I’m working on getting satellite coverage. The address shows a place called the Firebrand Ranch. Big place. Private airstrip. I’m running records on it now. So far I see it’s a bunch of corporations owned by other corporations, owned by shell companies. Wouldn’t have expected anything less.”
“All right. Be ready,” Boone said. “We have no idea what’s going to happen with this vehicle. I haven’t heard from Ziv or Eben in several hours and that worries me. Their calls go to voice mail. X-Ray, once you’ve got views on all the streets around the warehouse, start looking for signs that they’ve got people watching. If we have to send somebody over there, I don’t want anybody running into countersurveillance. Call me if you need anything.” He left the room.
He went back to Angela and Q’s room and knocked on the door, Croc at his heels. Angela let them in. She didn’t look happy.
“Okay, here’s what we know,” Boone said as he entered the room. “X-Ray found where your mother’s plane landed. Eben and Ziv aren’t answering the phone. So I need you to hang out here. I’m going to go check on Malak.”
Angela was wound up tight and I thought she was about to unload on Boone.
His phone’s chirping stopped her.
“It’s J.R.,” he said, looking at the caller ID. “Hey, J.R.”
Angela and Q could hear J.R. talking extremely loudly. Even from across the room they could recognize his voice. Boone listened and said, “Got it” before hanging up.
“All right,” Boone said. “We’ve found Eben and Ziv.”
“How does J.R. know where Eben and Ziv are?” I asked. “And where are they?”
“He gave Eben a Seamaster. And they’re in jail. C’mon, Croc.” They headed toward the door.
“In jail?” we both said at the same time.
“Yep. J.R. checked the jail records and they’ve been there since yesterday afternoon. Something is up. They should have been allowed to make a phone call and would have called one of us.”
We’d taken our watches off before we got on Air Force One so Roger wouldn’t see them. J.R. had also given one to Malak when she was an agent. Roger would have immediately recognized them. My watch was in the pocket of my cargos and Angela’s was in her pack. I’d forgotten all about the tracking devices J.R. had put inside them. Frankly, it creeped me out a little to think the president of the United States could find me anywhere at any time as long as I kept that watch on me.
“Hey, Boone?” Angela said, “you know that picture of the German officer we showed you, the one with the dog who looked a lot like Croc?”
“Yeah,” he said, turning at the door to look at the two of us.
“Did you ever fight in the war?”
“Which one?” Boone asked. “I’ve fought in a lot of places.”
I stared back and forth between them, wondering who would break the tension first.
“Why are you asking now?” Boone asked. His tone was suddenly scary.
“No reason,” Angela said. “Just, that picture looks an awful lot like you. And so did this one from Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show.” She turned the laptop around so the screen was facing him. He walked closer, squinting to look at it. I watched him for any sign of deception but the old spy betrayed nothing. He had no tell.
“Where’d you get that?” Boone asked.
“Just stumbled across it doing some research,” Angela said. “Looks kind of like you, doesn’t it?”
Boone looked closer at the photo. Then shook his head.
“Nah. Maybe a little. Been around a long time but never met Buffalo Bill. That dog does look an awful lot like Croc, though, I’ll give you that. Listen, I’ve got to go. We’ll talk about this later.”
“You lied to us about being recruited by the CIA out of college,” Angela snapped. “You told us you’d tell us the truth, now you’ve been gone for hours doing who knows what. And we’ve seen you and Croc go poof … who are you, Boone?”
He stopped at the door, his hand on the knob, and looked back at us. I saw Boone’s shoulders sag ever so slightly.
“Poof?” he asked.
“I came up with it,” I said. His eyes narrowed as he considered it.
“Look. I was gone for hours … because … I just … there was something I had to do. I don’t have time to talk about this now. But don’t worry. I’ll be back in a flash.” He stepped into the hallway with Croc at his heels and closed the door.
I had no doubt he would.
The Leopard Stalks
Malak could not stop pacing. She’d spent the night taking short naps, sitting on the floor of the small living room, at the far end of the couch. It would give her a clear shot at the door. Miss Ruby had undoubtedly reported her debriefing of Malak to the rest of the Five. There was a chance they’d decided she had become a liability and would terminate her.
She didn’t think so, but she was in a new arena now.
Malak knew it was paranoid. But it was how she planned to stay alive, by leaving nothing to chance.
The building next to the airstrip was small, air-conditioned, and stocked with food and drink. But she couldn’t concentrate on any of that now. For years she had devoted her life to destroying the ghost cell by rooting out its members one by one. Seeing Angela in Washington and again in Kitty Hawk had thrown her off her game. It was causing her tremendous heartache and she was losing the battle of will she must win to keep herself alive.
The image of a leopard stalking back and forth in a cage was not lost on her. She shook her head, trying to clear it. This building felt like a cage to her. The air conditioning was not keeping pace with the rising Texas heat. She went to the window facing the airstrip and cranked it open slightly. A little breeze blew in but did little to cool down the interior.
Still trying to keep her emotions in neutral, she went into the small bathroom and opened the faucet. The cool water ran over her hands and she dabbed some on her face. It helped a little. The mirror revealed a Malak Tucker she barely recognized. Though she frequently changed hairstyles, the nervous energy she was burning every day had given her face a much leaner look.
She studied the Omega Seamaster watch on her wrist, given to her by President Culpepper. After the explosion at Independence Hall, she removed the tracking device inside it. In her role as the Leopard, J.R. could not know she was alive or where she was. But how many times in the last few days had she considered calling the engraved number on the back of it? Just reach out to him and let this all be over. You’ve done more than your share, Malak Tucker, she would say to herself. J.R. assumed the watch had been destroyed in the explosion. Up until she had taken Bethany from the White House, he had no idea she was even still alive. But though he could no longer know where she was by tracking her watch, she could always call him. Why didn’t she?
Because she still had a job to do.
&nb
sp; When she came out of the bathroom, she visibly started. Boone was sitting in the overstuffed chair next to the couch, which Croc now apparently claimed as his own. By reflex she reached for her pistol, and Boone held up a hand to stop her.
“Easy, Malak,” he said.
Malak let out her breath and relaxed from the adrenaline rush she’d just experienced. She knew the guesthouse might be bugged or that a camera might be monitoring the building, so she stayed in character as the Leopard.
“What are you doing? Who are you? Did Miss Ruby send you to check on me?”
“Relax, there’s no one listening,” Boone said, holding up his phone. “X-Ray gave me a little app doodad that can detect bugs, cameras, and wireless signals. Plus I think every time I use it I get a free coffee at Starbucks. Even better, Croc would know if anyone was listening.”
Malak relaxed a little but was still angry. “Are you insane? What are you doing here? How did you even get in here?”
“Malak, you have to trust me. Croc and I have been doing this a long time. Over the years, we’ve … gained the ability … and know-how … to get around all kinds of alarms, security patrols, and every kind of surveillance you can imagine. And now X-Ray helps too,” he said, waving his phone in the air. “So, relax. Seriously, we’re safe unless someone walks in, and before that happens, Croc will know. I believe in X-Ray and I trust Croc even more when it comes to this stuff.”
“That old dog? How could he know if this place is wired?” Malak broke cover. If Boone was wrong, she figured, the place would be swarming with guards by now and apparently no one had noticed.
Croc opened one eye and looked at her, then immediately closed it.
“That’s his insulted look, by the way,” Boone said. “What have you learned?”
“How’s Angela? Is she all right?”
“She’s fine. Perfectly safe. She and Q are in the Westin, doing homework. The SOS team is four doors down; two operatives are with Roger and Blaze in their suite. Everyone is fine, Malak, you have my word.”
Malak felt better. She would never stop worrying about Angela but the news was comforting. Despite her initial reservations about him, she knew Boone was very good.
“I’m being sent to Chicago,” she said. “I don’t know why. They had me wait here overnight. They must be waiting on pilots, or else the same flight crew needed downtime or something. I’m to go to a safe house and wait for instructions. I’m supposed to meet Number Two there.”
“Huh. Chicago,” Boone said. For a few seconds he was silent, apparently lost in thought.
“What is it?” Malak asked.
“That’s where Match is headed next. I wonder why they’re sending you there.”
“I don’t know. But I don’t like it. I want you to pull Angela off the tour. Quest too. Come up with some excuse. She’s in danger, Boone, and I’m losing my ability to focus. That could get a lot of innocent people hurt.”
“It could. But Malak, I know you. When the moment strikes, you’re one of the most focused people I’ve ever met. We’re close now. They know we’re watching but in the last few days it’s almost like the ghost cell doesn’t care anymore. I don’t think they know who exactly is watching but I think they’ve made some kind of connection between Philadelphia and D.C. and now they’re shadowing us. If I pull Angela and Quest off now and send them home, if I do anything that looks remotely suspicious, they could fade away and it might be years before we find them again. We can’t let up yet.”
“I don’t like it,” Malak said. “This is my daughter.”
Croc raised his head, his ears twitching.
“Someone’s coming,” Malak said, her hand going to the pistol in her waistband.
Boone stood and looked out the room’s window.
“Car coming. Must be your pilots,” he said.
“I still don’t like this, Boone.”
“I know. But I promise you Angela is safe. And we can finish this. We’re closer than we’ve ever been. I’m asking you to trust me.”
“All right. I go to Chicago. You stay with Angela. But so help me, Boone, if I get a sense that anything is going wrong or Angela is in danger, I’m pulling the plug. Do you understand me?”
“I do. I’d suggest you go outside and meet the pilots so no one comes in here and finds me. One more thing. Pat Callaghan will be running countersurveillance on you until Eben and Ziv arrive.”
Malak gave him a grim stare. She was relieved to have Pat watching her back, but didn’t like putting another friend in danger. It wouldn’t surprise her if he had volunteered.
After a moment her face took on a curious expression.
“What?” Boone asked.
“You look tired, Boone. When is the last time you slept?” she asked.
“I got a lot of rest yesterday after I left North Carolina,” he said.
“Really. Well, you must not be sleeping well. You seem … different,” she said.
“It’s just the heat,” Boone said.
“Boone. You’re responsible for my daughter’s safety. If you’re not totally focused …”
“I’m fine,” Boone said. “You need to get going.”
Malak’s eyes narrowed and she gave his face the once-over again before she left the building. A few minutes later, the car slowed to a stop and the same pilots from the previous day emerged from the backseat. They gave her a curt nod and began immediately to ready the aircraft for takeoff. The car drove away.
When the plane was ready, Malak boarded. The aircraft taxied into position and a few minutes later it accelerated down the runway and into the air. The Leopard was on the move again.
Inside the guesthouse, Boone stared out the window at the mansion off in the distance. Croc stood and ambled off the couch. They both stood there in the room for a moment. And then they were gone.
Always Watching
Just as the plane lifted off, a dog started barking outside the mansion. Loudly. Then it started to howl. Miss Ruby, sitting at the desk in the study, stood and went to the window. Outside she saw a dog. It was hard to tell from the distance, but it looked like a blue heeler, rolling around on the ground and barking. It was off to the side of the driveway, about fifty yards from the road. It came to its feet and shook its head back and forth, lifting its head to the sky and howling. And from where she stood, it looked like it was foaming at the mouth.
“Oh, no. A rabid dog,” she muttered. Retrieving a small two-way from her desk, she pushed the button.
“Robert, there’s a dog out front by the road goin’ wild. Looks like it might be rabid. Call the county animal control and then check it out, sugar,” she said.
“Copy. On my way to the front door now.”
Miss Ruby went back to her desk and sat. A few minutes later, the dog raised another horrible ruckus.
She returned to the window and pulled back the drapes. Robert and two other men were standing where she had last seen the dog. She could hear it barking like crazy, but she couldn’t spot it anywhere.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, they better catch that thing before it gets into the pasture with the cattle,” she muttered. Retrieving a pistol from the desk, she left the study.
As soon as she exited the room, Boone walked in. The study was just off the main hallway that led to the front door. He was going to have to be quick.
The tracking device X-Ray had given him before he had left the hotel was the size of a hearing-aid battery. Boone had seen a lot of things in his day but it never ceased to amaze him how such things were becoming smaller and smaller. He wanted to find something that Miss Ruby was likely to take with her if she left the ranch, but her purse wasn’t here and he didn’t have enough time to search the house.
Smoke curled up from a cigarette she’d left burning in the ashtray. On the desk next to it was a jeweled cigarette case. Boone pried it open and found a nearly full pack of cigarettes inside. He removed them, put the tracking device at the bottom of the case and the pack on top of it.
Snapping it shut, he heard the front door open and voices in the hall.
It was time to go.
The Sheriff
Boone entered the Valiant County sheriff’s station, which was fairly quiet on a Monday afternoon. From the outside it looked a lot like every small-town police station Boone had ever been in. There was a two-truck fire station attached to the south end of the building. At the back of the parking lot, a small building stood off by itself. A sign over the door read: Valiant County Animal Control. In front of the building was a black van. Dogs could be heard barking and howling inside the structure, causing Croc’s ears to prick up. Boone smiled at the thought of criminals and wayward dogs held at the same compound. He’d always believed if people loved and took care of dogs, there’d be a lot fewer criminals in the world.
The inside of the station was also familiar. A big wooden counter sat perpendicular to the front door. A desk sergeant working away on some paperwork occupied a stool behind it. Beyond that were four metal desks grouped together, one of them occupied by a deputy questioning a handcuffed man seated in a chair.
“No dogs allowed,” the desk sergeant said as Boone and Croc entered the station house. The sergeant looked up quickly, instantly dismissed Boone as anyone important, and returned to his task.
“He’s a service dog,” Boone answered.
The sergeant looked up again. He studied Boone with a skeptical eye.
“Service? For what?” he demanded.
“Anxiety. I need to see the sheriff,” Boone said.
“Why?” The desk deputy had now turned his attention to Croc.
“Because he has a couple of people in custody and I’m here to get them out,” Boone said. The deputy tried to give Boone a hard look and failed. Boone’s ponytailed gray hair and deeply lined face were impervious to intimidation.
