Lady Death

by Brian Drake

  Wilson came back. “Hit it anyway. The team can tell us what’s there or what isn’t.”

  “Waste of money.”

  “I have a feeling you’re right, Joe,” Wilson said. “I’ll be damned if I can explain it.”

  “She wasn’t going there.”

  “Our informant says—”

  “They know she’s in custody by now. They changed their plans.”

  “Puts us behind the eight-ball.”

  “Yup.”

  “I’ll get back to you.”

  “Okay.” Hayden ended the call.

  Colleen leaned over his right shoulder. When she spoke, he smelled the cardamom coffee on her breath.

  “I love hunky firemen,” she said.

  “Take your pick,” Hayden told her.

  “They’re all gay,” Lymann said.

  “You wish,” Colleen told him.

  The trio remained glued to their screens.

  A nagging doubt remained in the back of Hayden’s mind.

  If the Islamic Union had evacuated the Sukkariyeh location, why had Francesca Sloan kept her travel plans?

  Had they killed a decoy?

  16

  Raven chewed a grape from the fruit plate.

  He and Tanya sat in the conference room once again, a uniformed guard at the door. Wilson was on his way.

  The CIA man had been correct. The accommodations weren’t terrible. Raven’s quarters were small but comfortable.

  But he was getting antsy.

  It wasn’t in his nature to stay in one place for long. He wanted to stay because of Tanya. She needed a friend close by. He was willing to be such a friend, for now.

  He’d spent the previous evening answering Wilson’s questions about his involvement. The questions had been routine, and he explained how she’d contacted him and their meeting at the casino.

  He took a deep breath. Another day or two and he could go home. In the meantime—

  “What do you think he wants?” Tanya asked.

  “No sense in speculating,” Raven said. “I’m sure everything is fine. They probably need you to see pictures of the drone strike.”

  She remained silent. He watched her pick at a fingernail.

  The door swung open. Wilson rushed in. He excused the guard, who closed the door behind her.

  Wilson set a laptop in front of him and raised the lid. He pressed the power button.

  “Good news and bad news,” he said.

  Raven sat up.

  “Good news, we have two of Francesca Sloan’s teeth, and it’s her. Confirmed kill.”

  “The bad news?” Tanya said.

  “The Sukkariyeh base was empty. Cleared out.”

  Color drained from her face.

  “They changed the meeting,” Raven said.

  “We think so,” Wilson said. He typed a short password.

  “Why didn’t Sloan change her route?” Raven said.

  “We’re asking the same thing, Sam.”

  Raven glanced at Tanya for an answer. She shrugged. Her wide eyes told him she had no answer either.

  Wilson waved her over. “We need you to check the picture.”

  “If you already know—”

  “We’d like the confirmation, Ms. Jafari.” He stepped back as she came over. “Are those her remains?” he asked.

  She leaned close to see the screen. “Body is charred.”

  “Part of her hijab survived the fire.”

  “I see it. She wore the tiger stripes because they matched our training uniforms.”

  “She wore it in the photo you gave us.”

  “Yes.” Tanya stepped back. “You pulled two teeth out?”

  “With pliers, yeah. Nasty work.”

  Wilson pressed a button. Tanya winced.

  “Close up,” Wilson told Raven. To Tanya, “Well?”

  “It’s her. There’s enough of her face left. I can tell it’s her.”

  “The CIA thanks you for your service, Ms. Jafari.” Wilson closed the laptop.

  Tanya appeared sullen as she dropped into a chair. Raven went over to her. He sat next to her and put an arm around her. She touched his hand.

  It took a lot to betray friends. Whatever her disgust of the Islamic Union’s actions, bonds had been forged.

  “We’re going to need more information,” Wilson said, “about other active Union operatives.”

  She nodded. “The second- and third-in-command will take over now,” she said. “You want their names?”

  “It will help.”

  She named two men. Wilson scribbled their names on a pocket notebook.

  “They’ll scatter to safe houses,” she said. “I don’t know where.”

  “You know of at least one, right.”

  She nodded. “The one I would have used in an emergency, yes. It’s in Damascus.” She gave the address. Wilson made another note.

  “What else?” she asked.

  “No more tonight,” he said. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, Sam, why don’t you take her out and get some fresh air, and we’ll resume when you get back.”

  Raven nodded.

  “Tanya,” Wilson said, “what will happen with Operation Triangle now?”

  “They won’t stop it,” she said. “We always planned for these contingencies. Any cells in the field won’t know about the command structure change until they need to.”

  “They work independently?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. I gotta get back to Langley. You two take it easy.”

  Wilson scooped up the laptop and left the room. The uniformed guard returned.

  Tanya rose. “I need to lay down.”

  “Good idea.”

  Raven followed her out of the room. The guard escorted both back to their quarters.

  Raven steered the compact Chevrolet along a winding road. Wilson promised they’d hook up with Highway 29, which would take them to Arlington, the nearest city to the black site.

  He gave them a six-hour pass. “I’d like it better if you’re back in five hours,” he’d added.

  “What would you like to do?” he asked as he drove.

  They hadn’t said much since leaving the facility. After last night, Tanya didn’t seem in the mood to talk.

  “I want to go bowling,” she said.

  Raven frowned. “Really?”

  “I haven’t been in so long. I used to go once a week. It’s one of the many things I gave up when I—you know.”

  “Check on your phone.”

  She pulled a new cell phone from her purse. Wilson had not let them have their own phones back, but instead issued what they carried. They were supposed to keep the phones on them. Tracking software would enable agents to locate them in an emergency. The phones had a one-touch feature to send an SOS should the need arise.

  Wilson at least let Raven has his pistol. He wore it under his jacket.

  The GPS in her phone directed them to Round 1 Bowling & Amusement on Cooper Street. Between the number of miles they had to cover and traffic, it took forever to arrive. The Chevy wasn’t the most comfortable car in the world. The seat was too hard, the suspension too tight. Every bump jolted through the floor. Why couldn’t the US government spring for a BMW?

  The bowling center greeted them with noise and flashing video screens. At midday, most lanes were empty, but a few players tossed balls along the polished lanes. The thunder of each strike echoed.

  The café and sports bar caught Tanya’s attention first. She told Raven she wanted to eat something greasy first. They sat at a high table and ate decent pizza with extra pepperoni. A large video screen dominated the back wall. The leather couches in front of the screen matched the black-and-tan wood floor but looked unpleasant for sitting. The seats and backrests were at perfect 90-degree angles. Raven supposed the point wasn’t to let people sit for too long.

  Raven found the most amusement in a karaoke booth adjacent to the bowling lanes. A sign on the clear glass said the max capacity of the bo
oth was eleven. Raven didn’t like the idea of “private” karaoke. What was the point of singing your heart out, off key, drunk, and making a fool of yourself, if you weren’t in an open bar with dozens of strangers staring at you?

  But the pizza was good, the pepperoni spicy and the cheese gooey. They put leftover slices in a takeaway box. Raven paid for a lane and grimaced while slipping on the ridiculous bowling shoes. They could spray all the Lysol in existence into the shoes, and Raven would still burn his socks after. Tanya relished the process. She ran to get a ball before Raven finished tying the shoelaces. Raven selected a heavy red ball and joined her at the lane.

  She had their names typed in, taking first position, of course, as he dropped his ball on the carrier.

  “I’ve won trophies before, you know,” he advised.

  She hefted her ball with confidence. “Really?”

  “When I was ten years old. I didn’t like other sports, so my mother dragged me to bowling lessons. I had three strikes during the ‘Manic Monday’ tournament.”

  “You must be proud.”

  He grinned. “I’m going to wipe the floor with you.”

  She smiled back. “We’ll see.”

  She brushed past him to take her position. Raven watched with his hands on his hips. For the moment he wanted to forget the circumstances of their meeting, what made her who she was, what made him who he was, and enjoy their time together.

  But he couldn’t help glancing around, looking for danger.

  He’d lived too long in the shadows not to.

  17

  She was gone.

  Halfway through the first game Tanya excused herself to use the restroom. Raven bowled his turn and sat to wait. Five minutes became ten. Ten became fifteen. Raven went to the desk. He asked the woman there to check on Tanya. “I’m afraid she might be sick.” He followed the woman to the ladies’ restroom, waited outside while she went in. The woman emerged shaking her head.

  She held a cell phone in her hand.

  “Where did you find that?” he asked.

  “It was on the counter. I’ll put it in lost and found.”

  It was Tanya’s phone. The one Clark Wilson had handed her.

  “It’s my lady friend’s phone.”

  She handed it to him.

  “Any windows in the restroom?”

  “No,” she said.

  Raven described Tanya. “Did you see anybody leave?”

  “Our guests come and go all the time, I wasn’t watching.”

  “This isn’t good,” Raven said. The woman appeared concerned, but also powerless. She stared at Raven a moment.

  “I need to check out,” he said, “and find her.”

  Raven went back to the lane, grabbed her purse, which she’d also left behind, paid the bill, and put his shoes on. He paused a moment. Tanya was still wearing her bowling shoes.

  He had no idea what he was going to tell Clark.

  He had to find her.

  Jumping into the Chevy, Raven drove up and down each side of the block. He extended the search pattern to cover the two blocks before and after the bowling center. Tanya had to be on foot. He didn’t see any bus stops. He also didn’t see Tanya. No sign of her whatsoever.

  He drove around some more, driving slow to the annoyance of other drivers. No Tanya.

  He drove back to the bowling center parking lot and dialed Wilson. He had no other choice.

  “She got away from me,” Raven told him.

  “What?”

  “Tanya’s gone, Clark. She left her phone behind too.”

  “Wait. Start over. Tell me everything.”

  Raven explained their activity and her visit to the restroom.

  “She walked away?”

  “Vanished is more like it,” Raven said. “I drove in circles looking for her but she’s nowhere near here.”

  “This doesn’t make sense.”

  “I have a feeling it might make perfect sense.”

  “How so?”

  “Either she’s rejecting your deal and going on her own, or she played us.”

  Wilson fell silent. Raven’s hand shook as he held the cell phone.

  “You better get back here.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “I don’t know how we’re going to explain this.”

  “You and me both, pal.”

  “Drive around again. One more time. We can’t let this go.”

  “I’m going now.”

  Raven ended the call and started the Chevy.

  When Raven called back with the same news, Wilson directed him to Langley. Christopher Fisher wanted to see him.

  A guest pass waited for Raven at the security gate of CIA headquarters. He drove to visitor parking, and Wilson reached him as he locked the car with the remote.

  Wilson looked pale.

  “You okay?” Raven said.

  “No, Sam. We’re in serious trouble.”

  Raven followed Wilson into the building, through lobby security, and into an elevator. Wilson pressed a button for their floor. The elevator climbed upward.

  Neither spoke.

  Raven’s mind raced. He focused on his second theory. She had played them. A phony defection to plant misinformation. The CIA had redirected resources at fake targets. Meanwhile, the Islamic Union furthered their progress on Operation Triangle.

  She hadn’t mentioned the name by mistake. Not at all.

  How had he not seen through her? Or had he? Had he let his need to protect the vulnerable get in the way of his judgement?

  He wasn’t alone in making the call, though. The CIA had believed her too.

  But...

  Assassins had targeted her.

  The White Widow was certainly dead.

  Why sacrifice operators for a ruse?

  It left him with option one. She was rejecting the CIA’s deal and taking her chances alone. She’d given them everything she had. Staying locked in the Blue Ridge black site wasn’t what she wanted. Did she have a backup plan? A new identity waiting?

  The elevator let them off on the seventh floor. Short walk down a quiet hallway. Through a door to Christopher Fisher’s office.

  The receptionist waved them to the inner office.

  Fisher waited behind his desk. He stood. Seated in front of the desk was Layla McCarthy. She stood too.

  “What’s going on, Raven?” Fisher said.

  “Hello, Christopher.” He smiled at Layla. “Hello, Layla.”

  “Sam,” she said. “I wish we were meeting again under better circumstances.”

  “Ditto,” Raven said.

  Fisher snapped, “Answer me.”

  Wilson pulled two more chairs over to the desk. He and Raven sat. Raven carefully went through his story again. He left out no detail. The others listened carefully. He placed Tanya’s CIA phone and purse on Fisher’s desk as proof she’d left it behind.

  When he finished, Fisher and Layla stared at him. Wilson looked at the carpet.

  Fisher sighed and tapped his desk blotter. “All right. What are our ideas?”

  Raven explained his theories.

  Layla added, “It wouldn’t be the first time a defector got cold feet.”

  “But each of those times,” Fisher said, “the defector had been lying to us. Raven’s second idea fits too.”

  Wilson chimed in. “She left her purse and the phone. She has no ID or money. She’s wearing bowling shoes.”

  “She has some sort of plan,” Layla said. “This wasn’t a spur of the moment decision. She was waiting for the opportunity.”

  “Have you checked out what she told you,” Raven said, “about her background?”

  “We’re still investigating her statement,” Fisher said. “Our efforts were focused on the White Widow.”

  “We have to assume the black site is now compromised,” Wilson said.

  “Did she see any of the other prisoners?” Fisher asked.

  “No.” Wilson shook his head. “But she knows the loc
ation. She knows the security layout.”

  “No way a commando force could get in there,” Layla said.

  “Do we want to take the chance?” Wilson said. “Who says they need commandos?”

  “What do you suggest, Clark?” Fisher said.

  “We move the prisoners to another location until we determine whether there’s a threat to the facility.”

  “And if they’re waiting for us to move them?” Layla said. “We only have the one other IU prisoner, Omar Talman. What if they’re planning a rescue? They wouldn’t need to attack the facility if they can blow up a convoy.”

  Fisher said, “We can increase the force at the black site. Roving patrols in the forest. They won’t attack. It’s a suicide mission. But we’ll add the personnel anyway.”

  Wilson nodded.

  Fisher let out another breath. “I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do on the Hill.” He turned to Layla. “We need her background check expedited. I want it done in an hour.”

  Layla nodded.

  Fisher leveled a finger at Raven. “You’re not going anywhere until we figure this out.”

  “I’m here for the duration,” Raven told him. “This is my responsibility as much as anybody’s.”

  “Stick with Wilson till I say so,” Fisher said. “I’ll get you a green badge, so you’ll be able to move about the building. I’m going to distribute pictures of Tanya and send out a search party. We’ll cover Arlington like flies. She’ll turn up.”

  “And if she doesn’t?” Layla said.

  “Then we’ll know she was a fake. Anything else?”

  Nobody had anything more to say.

  “Let’s get to work.”

  18

  Omar Talman was running out of time.

  The guards talked too much, and the Islamic Union field officer knew how to listen without being noticed. He knew when Tanya arrived, and he heard the buzz about her disappearance. Her vanishing act was his signal. If he didn’t move fast, the plan wouldn’t work, and he’d be stuck at the black site until he died.

  His cell wasn’t much bigger than a closet. No bed. Only a toilet and a bare mattress on the floor. They’d given up on him. The interrogations had stopped weeks ago. He gave them nothing, despite the near torture of their techniques. He knew policy forbade them from going too far. He’d won by frustrating them. They’d thought he’d be a fountain of information; not so. Now they were going to let him rot.