Through the day, Stryker listened to breaking news on the television about raids in Houston, Texas, and Fairfax, Virginia. The FBI announced arrests of Iranian terror cells planning attacks in these cities. The FBI also announced arrests of Iranians in several European cities including London. Stryker’s mood lifted. Sparks had gotten the information out in time to prevent the attacks. He called Rachel and told her the news. He also told her to expect a package from him in several weeks.
“When you receive the package,” he said, “I want you to call me.”
“I suppose I can do that. But what’s in the—”
He disconnected the call. She would have to wait to find out.
Epilogue
Two weeks had passed, and Vadim Propov still did not have a clear picture of who had killed Alexsey Fedorov. Most of the Russians accompanying Fedorov had been killed, along with three Iranians. Propov had made inquiries, and the official word from Iran was that they were looking into the matter. The exposure of Iranian terror cells throughout Europe and the United States was keeping them busy. It was all over the news.
Propov believed Russia would stay clear of the Iranians and could continue the drug trade without their help. Propov and the SVR members began working on a suitable replacement for Fedorov. The plan to fill the Iranian void would cost more, but contact had been established with several groups in South America capable of making the transition. These groups would move the drugs into Mexico where the cartels could take them into the United States with the help of Steven Petloki. Propov would call Petloki soon to discuss getting the shipments started.
*****
Steven Petloki and Jason Branch met after receiving information about an attack near a village in Afghanistan. Petloki wondered if somehow Jake Stryker was involved. The name had been surfacing all too often lately.
The Iranians had gone silent and offered no useful information. All Petloki remembered was the Russian’s desire to be given Stryker’s military file. Branch helped obtain the file, which Cagen Brentwood had leaked. Brentwood had been murdered—the police were calling it an interrupted burglary, but Petloki knew better—and the status of the file remained unknown.
Petloki had Branch making inquiries into Fedorov’s disappearance and the firefight that occurred near a village south of Herat.
Presently the military would only say several cars had been shot up and a body recovered ten miles south of the village. The identity of the body was still unknown. Death came from a slashed throat and a fall from an aircraft.
*****
Herman Kaesar returned to his office shortly after he viewed the arrests of the Iranian terror cells in Europe and the United States. He returned calls to Fayez, who informed him that the Pakistani Prince still wanted him to handle investments. Fayez did not mention the Iranians or other parties, and neither did Kaesar.
Kaesar received an anonymous phone message from an unknown person that stated he was clear to go about his business and the person would keep in touch. This was good enough for Kaesar. A few clients had been lost, but business could continue as usual. All in all, not a bad outcome to the affair.
*****
Propov called Petloki and gave him a secure number to call. Petloki called the number, and Propov advised him the shipments would resume in ninety days. Petloki said, “I assume we have the same business arrangement?”
“We will have the same splits,” Propov said, “with payments transferred through Geneva and New York.”
Petloki agreed and said he would be in touch.
*****
Sparks arrived back in Washington, DC, and met with Stryker. Sparks told Stryker that to the best of his knowledge there did not seem to be a mole in the CIA, so perhaps the Iranian surveillance had simply happened upon him. The incident appeared to have been a chance sighting.
Sparks asked, “Have you thought more about the proposal offered by the Agency?”
“I’ll think seriously about it, with the mole issue resolved,” Stryker said. “I’m going to Arkansas to rest and sort things out, and I’ll get back to you.”
Stryker called Daniel and proposed that he send Rachel, Sara, and Abel to a planning meeting that would last approximately ten days. Stryker told Daniel the dates and location and said he would take care of all arrangements except for travel so that Daniel could provide proper identification and cover for his agents.
“You’ve certainly earned my trust,” Daniel said. “Whatever you need.”
“I’ll come visit with you sometime after the meeting is concluded. I look forward to continuing to work together.”
*****
Daniel advised Rachel, Sara, and Abel that they would be traveling in two weeks to St. Kitts for a planning meeting with Stryker.
“What’s the meeting about?” Rachel asked.
Daniel shrugged. “Stryker mentioned unfinished business.”
Rachel stifled a laugh. “We’ll make plans for the meeting.”
As they left Daniel’s office, Sara said, “St. Kitts? Is this for real?”
“There’s no telling what Stryker told Daniel. But, yes, I think it’s for real.”
Several days later, a package arrived addressed to Rachel. Inside were two smaller packages, one labeled for Rachel and the other for Sara. Rachel opened the box and gingerly parted the tissue paper inside. She smiled and then chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“Open your box.”
Sara opened her box and pulled out a black bikini. Rachel held up an exact duplicate “He did remember our plan,” Rachel said.
Sara stared at the tiny bikini, holding it up between two fingers with a small frown. She looked over at Rachel. “Well, I guess we don’t need to pack.”
Rachel burst out laughing.
*****
In London, a late summer thunderstorm had settled in around the airport, and the weather was severe enough to cause a few delays as airliners needed extra time to approach, land, and taxi. Many of the other passengers waiting to board were impatient and loudly voiced their dissatisfaction, but the man at the back of the line waited calmly. He had time.
He stood at the gate carrying only a small duffel bag. He had not checked a suitcase; he was traveling light. He watched the lightning flash through the big bay windows at the gate, illuminating the jumbo jet outside. Rain streaked the glass. Inside, at the gates around him, families embraced, lovers parted, soldiers disembarked, children laughed and cried and slept, and the whole sickening drama of human interaction played out around him. His expression was unreadable.
They called for second-class passengers to begin boarding, and he shuffled forward with the rest of the line. His hand, still wrapped in a bandage, was stuffed deep in his coat pocket.
There was nothing he could do to disguise his limp.
About the Author
WARREN CONRAD is the author of a new thriller series with Operations Compromised as his debut novel. In addition to having both State and Federal law enforcement experience, he has travelled the globe as an international investment banker, owned banks in Texas, and managed private equity investments both in the United States and Europe.
He and his wife Kathy reside in Fort Worth, Texas.
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