Peace had surrounded her when she first heard the pealing of the bells from Santa Maria della Salute, the white-domed basilica that she’d caught a glimpse of on her boat ride into Venice. She’d closed her eyes, listening to the mournful cries of the terns, and the endless lapping of the water against the ancient bricks of the convent, which was located behind high walls, well off the beaten tourist track. And although Piper wished she could stay longer, perhaps see something more of Venice, she was told that Lisette and Marc were already on their way to pick her up.
Tonight, though, she could pretend for a short while that she’d always lived here, and nothing bad had ever happened. At least that’s what she thought until she looked out the window at the mists rising from the blackened waters of the rio. The shadowed kitchen became a less pleasant refuge, and she turned away from the darkened windows, hoping to find comfort in the story Sister Anna was relating about her trip this evening with Sister Teresa. But Sister Anna’s story caught her off guard, and she wrapped her mind around the details, becoming more disturbed.
Something about a strange man asking Sister Teresa for directions to the nearest church so he could light a candle. “It was certainly odd,” Sister Anna said, wiping the tea tray with a linen towel.
Piper told herself there was nothing to worry about. She was safe here. With the exception of the mother superior, no one knew why she was here, not even the sisters. Sister Anna had misunderstood the situation, she thought, as she pulled the kettle from the burner, then poured the boiling water into the warmed teapot, the scent of chamomile rising up with the steam. “Why would a man asking directions to the church be odd?”
“Because of where we were when the conversation took place. Our church is . . . How do you say it in your country? Off the beaten path?”
The wail of a cat about to fight startled Piper. She glanced toward the door that led into the courtyard, relaxing when she saw it securely locked. Giustino had assured her that he’d hidden other witnesses here, and they’d been perfectly safe.
“If you ask me,” Sister Anna continued, unfazed by the disturbance, “he did not look like someone who seemed concerned about lighting a candle in any church. In fact, the only thing remotely religious about him was on one of his work boots. A cross-shaped cut in the toe. You could see the reinforced steel right through it. I noticed it when he dropped his map.”
“Cross-shaped?” Piper thought about what Mother Superior would expect her to say, since she was supposed to be devoting her life to the church—at least as far as the sisters knew. “God works in mysterious ways.” Replacing the kettle on top of the large, black, old-fashioned stove, she watched while Sister Anna dusted off a teacup and saucer with a tea towel, adding them to the tray. “Did Sister Teresa say anything to him?”
“She directed him to a different church closer to the vaporetto stop. But something made me turn around, and when I did, I saw him going the exact opposite direction. And then Sister Teresa saw him again later, talking with someone else.”
“Do you think he was looking for anyone here?” Piper asked, that knot of fear returning.
“I don’t know why he would be. Our order is not very well-known.” Sister Anna placed a cloth napkin on the tray, then looked up at Piper. “Even so, I should probably mention this to Mother Superior. I’m only hesitant because she’s been on edge these days, ever since the Vatican sent notice that they intend to close the convent. It’s the only home she’s known for at least five decades, and the tension I see in her face concerns me.”
Sister Anna picked up the tray, and Piper held the door for her, trying not to worry. Together they walked out, their footsteps echoing across the marble paving stones down the dark hall, their only guiding light that which spilled out of Mother Superior’s open office door at the far end. Everyone else had retired for the night, and the convent was quiet, still peaceful. Not that the late hour mattered to Piper. If not for the mother superior agreeing to take her in, who knew where Piper would be staying, and she shivered at the thought, only then realizing as they neared her office just how cold it was. Far colder than the drafty convent should be, she thought, stepping across the threshold.
The first thing Piper noticed was the open window, and then Mother Superior standing to one side of her desk, instead of seated behind it. The elderly nun looked over at her, her voice sharp as she spoke to Sister Anna, surprisingly in Italian. “Cosa state facendo qui? Non voglio essere disturbata.”
Piper hesitated, suddenly uncertain of her place. The mother superior had seemed so accommodating when they’d spoken earlier in the day, and her English was excellent, as was Sister Anna’s. But then she remembered what Sister Anna had told her, that the mother superior was under a great deal of stress due to the ordered closing of the convent.
“Madre, abbiamo portato del té,” Sister Anna said, placing the teapot on the desk. Then she started toward the open window, saying, “Almeno lasciatemi chiudere la finestra. O vi prenderete un malanno—”
“Lasciatemi immediatamente e chiudete la porta!”
Her harshness startled Piper. She stopped where she was in the doorway, having no idea what the mother superior was saying, but there was no mistaking her tone. Sister Anna’s eyes widened, then she whirled from the room. Piper grasped the doorknob, and in the flash of time it took to pull closed the door, she saw the scuffed black leather boots in the shadows behind it.
And on one toe, the cut shaped like a cross clear through to the metal.
The oaken door clicked shut. Sister Anna was already down the hallway, and Piper hurried to catch up to her, taking her hand and pulling her into the kitchen. The moment they entered, Piper grabbed the first thing she reached, a cast-iron skillet.
“What on earth—”
“Call the police, Sister Anna. The man at the vaporetto stop. I saw his boot. He’s hiding in Mother Superior’s office.”
Piper was not about to let these kind women suffer because of her presence, and she started down the hall, stepping softly, until she heard a loud crash inside the office. She ran, threw open the door, then stood there, wielding the skillet with both hands, searching the room. At first she saw nothing but the broken shards of the teapot on the floor in front of the desk, the tea splattered across the tiles. And then on the other side of the desk, the man hovering over something on the floor. Mother Superior, she realized. Her eyes were closed and she was bleeding from her head. Piper raised the skillet. “Leave her alone!”
He looked up at Piper, his gaze widening. “L’Americana!”
He dove at her. She swung the skillet, but he ripped it from her grasp. The heavy iron pan flew to the ground, striking the terra-cotta floor. Piper scrambled for the door, but he grabbed her arm, pulled her into the hallway.
“Sister! Hel—”
“Silenzio!” He clamped his hand over her mouth and dragged her out into the night.
26
Washington, D.C.
McNiel’s warning lingered in Griffin’s mind long after he left the facility, then met up with Donovan that evening at the coffee house that they were now using as their pseudo base. Donovan was waiting at a back table when Griffin arrived, and a waitress immediately appeared, poured him a coffee, then left. He was just about to brief Donovan on his conversation with McNiel when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. When he saw the number on the screen, then calculated the time in Italy, midnight, a feeling of dread swept through him. “Giustino,” he told Donovan, then answered it.
“I have some bad news,” Giustino said. “The girl was kidnapped.”
“What happened?”
“I’m not sure yet,” he said. “I had only just arrived back in Rome when I received the call that someone had taken her. So count in flying time to Venice, it will be at least a couple hours before I know more. Dumas is on his way as well. What I can tell you is this: Someone broke into the convent. They knew she was there.
Knew right where to look for her. I do not yet have the details, but the local police are searching for her even as we speak.”
“Do Lisette and Marc know yet?”
“Yes. Their flight from Heathrow unfortunately is delayed.”
“Keep me informed.” Once he disconnected, he updated Donovan on what had transpired.
“Talk about going to hell in a handbasket,” Donovan said. “McNiel’s sacrificing himself for the kid, but someone got her anyway?”
“Let’s hope that Lisette and Marc get there in time to find her. In the meantime, we have a major issue here.” Griffin informed him about the files and the hard drive McNiel had to leave behind in the office.
“Great,” Donovan said. “You realize the security in that building is designed to keep spies like us out? And in case that’s not enough, they’ve also manned the building with armed federal guards. One’s stationed inside the lobby. He met me the moment I came out, so I have to assume he’s working in the control room, watching the monitors.”
“It’s going to take more than the two of us to bypass that system if we have any hope of getting in there,” Griffin said. “And that’s assuming we can even figure out how to bypass our own alarm system—and hope they haven’t thought about recovering the hard drive from the copy machine.”
“What about Fitzpatrick? We can trust her.”
“Pretty sure I’ve worn out my welcome.”
“Hate to say it, but you’re going to need to suck up big-time and beg. We don’t have a lot of choices, because the two of us can’t do this alone, and we don’t have enough time to wait for Tex to fly in from Mexico. We need a third person. It’s tonight or not at all.”
Of course, he was right. Griffin was going to have to ask Sydney for help.
The worst she could do was say no. Then again, as Carillo had warned him, she did carry a gun . . .
“You’re the last person I expected to see on my doorstep,” Sydney said, as she met him outside the lobby of her building. Griffin had a feeling that if he’d actually shown up on her doorstep, as it were, she would never have opened the door, which was why he had called her and asked her to meet him here.
“I know. I didn’t want things to turn out this way.”
“What is it you need this time?”
“Your help.”
“My help?” she asked, her voice filled with sarcasm. “I’ve definitely given my fair share these past few months. Find someone else.”
“We’re in trouble.”
“Hard to imagine why.” She turned and started walking toward the glass doors.
He followed. “The Senate is about to take a vote on shutting us down and McNiel’s close to being taken into custody on contempt charges.”
“Probably with good reason,” she said, not bothering to stop. “A few too many illegal search and seizures.”
“Look,” he said, catching up to her, walking by her side. “I wanted to tell you about what happened in Mexico.”
“Wanted to tell me? While I appreciate that you let me live, the polite thing to do when someone has a kill order out on them, even if it was rescinded, is to mention it before you start dating.”
“Will you stop and listen to me for a minute?”
She rounded on him, and he could see the tumult of emotions in her eyes. “Leave. Me. Alone. I have paid my dues. I don’t owe you or ATLAS a thing. And frankly, if they shut you down, they have my blessing.”
“Piper’s been kidnapped. Half the government wants to kill her, the other half use her for what she’s seen.”
The anger in her eyes was replaced by a moment of worry, indecision, then wariness. “I thought she was going into witness protection?”
“So did we. Long story short, the sketch you did with Piper? She saw him on TV. It’s Parker Kane.”
Sydney stared in disbelief at Griffin. “You expect me to believe that the man responsible for that murder in South San Francisco is Parker Kane? The about-to-be deputy national security adviser?”
“You did the drawing. You have to realize it looks just like him.”
“It also looks like hundreds of other gray-haired fifty-year-old men. Those drawings aren’t supposed to be used for identification. They’re a tool to eliminate suspects.”
“And we can’t eliminate him based on what you drew.”
“Neither can we eliminate Harcourt, my gray-haired fiftysomething-year-old boss based on that theory.”
“She pointed him out on the TV. The sound was off. She didn’t even know who he was.”
Sydney pulled her coat tighter, as though the chill in the air was suddenly getting to her. “Kane is too high on the food chain to be showing up at some murder scene, don’t you think? Especially one all the way across the nation.”
“Normally, I’d agree with you, but in this case, I think he was there to make sure he got his hands on those numbers the moment they were found. We assume he’s behind the kidnap as well.”
“The numbers? The list I recovered from Mexico?”
“Yes. What you recovered is the key to unlock a program designed to spy on computer systems and Internet traffic. I don’t know if Kane’s been running some prototype of that program to monitor our every move, or if he has somehow gotten access to our computers. Either way, the same people who were in South San Francisco knew where we had Piper and that witness protection was supposed to be coming for her.”
“Does this have something to do with Wingman and Wingman?”
“I don’t know of any connection between Kane and W2 yet, but then we’ve never looked before now.”
She stared at him for several seconds as though warring with her sense of self-preservation versus her sense of duty. “What is it you want from me?”
“Put your leads with mine.”
“You took my leads. Or Pearson did.”
“You’re saying you have done nothing since the search of your apartment? Somehow I doubt that.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve had a few things on my plate since then. Like who was searching my apartment.”
“I swear it wasn’t us. But that’s why McNiel and Pearson were so upset when they discovered you were looking into the matter. The people we’ve been investigating are dangerous.”
“A little clarity would have been nice.”
“So if they’d told you that you’d end up dead like everyone else, you would have backed off? Because it’s never stopped you before. At least not as long as I’ve known you.”
“Point taken. But if Pearson and McNiel have failed with the resources available to them, what is it you expect I’ll be able to do?”
“A fresh perspective, I hope. I have the collection of McNiel’s notes on the W2 investigation over the years.”
“You’re actually going to let me see them?”
“With a slight catch. They’re currently located behind the copy machine in the office. McNiel was attempting to remove the hard drive when the building was taken over. We need to recover that as well, and we’re a bit shorthanded.”
And just when he thought she was going to decline, she said, “Fine. Let me get a few things from my apartment. How hard can it be?”
Apparently a lot harder than any of them had anticipated, at least according to Donovan, when she met up with him and Griffin at the coffee shop. The place had a vast dining room, and they were able to sit well away from the few patrons present, allowing them much-needed privacy. “It’s like Griffin said,” Donovan told her. “One guard inside, one outside. I didn’t go around the rear, but I’d hazard a guess there’s one or two there, too. What I did do was play dumb, and ask if I could go in and get the extra set of keys to my apartment. Frankly I was surprised they actually let me in.”
Griffin picked up his coffee cup from the table. “I would’ve locked the doors the mome
nt I saw you drive in the parking lot.”
“Trust me,” Donovan said. “It wasn’t like they welcomed me with open arms. They escorted me the entire time. There is nothing going in or out that they’re not watching. Reception area’s deserted and there’s a ‘Closed’ sign on the front door. The guard on the inside? He’s monitoring the cameras and the security system.”
“How’d you find that out?” Griffin asked.
“Because I made them think I left the keys in the security room. By the way,” he said, holding up the key ring, “we now have the extra set to the surveillance van.”
“A slim bit of good news.” Griffin eyed his bagel, then pushed it away, having lost his appetite. “We need that file. Somehow we have to get in there.”
“Can’t you bypass the alarm?” Sydney asked. “God knows I’ve seen you do it on other buildings.”
“It’s not that easy here. We designed it specifically to avoid people like us getting in. We just never counted that our own government was going to be the one we were worried about.”
“Actually,” Donovan said, “there is a way. We can circumvent the video feed from the underground access.”
“Video, yes,” Griffin replied. “But not the alarm. We set them up on two different systems. For that very reason.”
Donovan swirled the ice in his water glass, then lifted it in a mock toast. “But what if someone had too much to drink and caused a disturbance out front? An incident where, say, the inside guard came out?”
“One,” Griffin said, “you’re not drinking alcohol.”
“An oversight on my part. That can be changed.”
“Two, how are we going to know exactly when that disturbance is taking place and the guard exits? We’re not going to have radio communication down in the tunnels, and we don’t have phone communication inside. It’s all blocked.”
“Can’t you unblock it?” Sydney asked.
“Jammer’s in the security room,” Griffin answered. “And I don’t know about you, but hacking into that system from an external computer is beyond my abilities.”
The Kill Order Page 16
