“Hey, you guys are supposed to be on patrol.”
“I brought them in,” Angelica said. “They’re curious about your friend.”
The dogs extended their noses over the top of the bed and scrutinized Linda’s face.
“They don’t get many visitors,” Harv said.
“I need to take them out more often.”
“I give them walks around the neighborhood,” Angelica said.
“And I’m sure they appreciate it, but I need to take them to a dog park where they can run around and be dogs.”
“They might thumb their noses at the riffraff,” Harv said.
“Hey, a purebred will eat a dead gopher alongside the lowest of mongrels.”
“You got that right. So will we, if we’re hungry enough.” His friend’s expression changed. “Sorry.”
“Forget it, Harv.” Nathan walked toward the front door and looked back at the dogs. “Come, you guys, I need you outside a little longer.” He made an arm gesture and the dogs bounded out in front of him.
Outside on his driveway, he tried not to think about his tormentor, but it happened anyway. Harv’s comment triggered a dark memory. Montez had starved him to the brink of death. He’d been denied food and water for days at a time. Both were hideous, but his hunger hadn’t been nearly as bad as the thirst. Being that parched became an enemy all its own. Montez liked to dine in front of him, but not just dine. The jerk had set up a mock five-star restaurant table, complete with nice flatware, wineglasses, cloth napkins, the works. He’d even procured a white tablecloth. Nathan remembered wondering where on earth Montez had gotten all that crap. It had been a cruel ploy, designed to destroy his will to resist. Even though he’d been hungry enough to eat the scraps like a dog, Nathan hadn’t caved. Montez made a critical mistake during the interrogation: he’d made it personal, and nobody won a battle of willpower with Nathan McBride unless Nathan allowed it. His dad possessed the same stubborn attitude, the reason they butted heads so often.
To this day, Nathan never wasted food and it sickened him to see how callous Americans could be. Most meals at restaurants were big enough to share, but few did. He didn’t condemn wasteful people; they were simply victims of the great disposable culture.
Change subjects, he told himself, but his thoughts had a mind of their own, returning to Rebecca Cantrell and the failed Nicaraguan mission that led to his capture. At the time, she hadn’t been high in the CIA’s brass, but she’d been involved with the planning of Operation Freedom’s Echo from its inception to its demise. Once Nathan fell into Montez’s hands, she’d immediately pulled the plug and recalled the other Echo teams. There’d been no choice.
Cantrell took the blame, but it hadn’t been her fault. Had she tried to deflect responsibility, he wouldn’t have the trust in her he now felt. He admired her willingness to say the buck stopped on her desk—a philosophy he also followed. When Nathan screwed up, he owned the mistake, apologized, and moved on. Simple as that. Narcissism wasn’t in Nathan’s personality and he hated narcissists with a passion. Harv’s oldest brother was a textbook case and the arrogant idiot had alienated everyone in Harv’s family.
He looked at the view of La Jolla and felt a pang of guilt about having such a beautiful place. He’d initially refused the CIA’s generous offer of restitution, not wanting to gain financially from what he’d gone through. But Harv had stepped in with a different opinion. Not only did Harv insist Nathan take the money, he also got the CIA to triple the amount. Nathan said he’d agree on one condition: he and Harv had to split the money evenly. Harv had risked everything returning to the jungle to rescue him, and he’d told Harv he wouldn’t accept any other terms. Harv agreed, investing 75 percent of their lump sum of three million dollars in Apple Inc. stock and the rest, as they say, is history.
Nathan returned to the study and found Harv sitting in a reading chair. “How’s she doing?”
“Still down for the count. I really like her hair. It’s a striking look, almost exotic.”
“I wonder how long it takes to weave those cornrows.”
“I’d have to guess hours.”
Nathan’s phone dinged with a text message. “Here we go,” he said.
do you still have the encrypted phone?
He sent “yes.”
turn it on. I have to reactivate it.
“She wants us to use the encrypted phone. Good thing she asked us to keep it.”
“Yeah, good thing,” Harv said slowly.
“Harv—”
His friend held up a hand. “Let’s just say she knew we’d need it again.”
Nathan sent:
2 minutes
“I’ll be right back; it’s in the basement.” He kept a lot of survival gear down there, basically everything needed in the event of a complete civil breakdown. You never knew when you were going to need several thousand rounds of subsonic ammo, a thousand instant meals, or a secure cell phone to call the director of the CIA. For Nathan and Harv, the latter seemed to happen with alarming frequency—the price of being on Cantrell’s speed-dial list.
He returned to the study and powered on the phone. He watched its screen go white, then work through a startup process. About forty-five seconds later, it was good to go.
“Maybe we’ll get some answers,” Nathan said.
“I’m not holding my breath.”
“Still don’t trust her?”
“Let’s just say . . . no, I guess I don’t. At least not completely.”
Angelica made a final pass along LG’s chin with a peroxide wipe, then excused herself from the room, closing the door as she left.
A few seconds later, Nathan’s encrypted phone bleeped to life.
CHAPTER 8
Nathan knew Cantrell would get right to the point. She wasn’t much for small talk. For one, she didn’t have time for it, and two, it wasn’t her style. He put the phone on speaker and said Harv was with him.
“What’s Genneken’s status?”
“She’s still out of it.”
“I trust you’ll keep someone by her side at all times?”
“No problem, we’re planning to.”
“Is the gunman secure?”
“Yes, he’s handcuffed to the trunk of the same orange tree where you saw my GPS coordinates. The cuffs are disposables.”
“Good work. My team’s ETA is ten minutes. In your best estimate, can they get in and out undetected?”
“Only from the canyon on the north side of her property. It’s how I got in. All they’ll need is night vision, it should be an easy entry.”
“I’ll let them know.”
“I have a favor to ask,” Nathan said.
“Name it.”
“We’ve got several of our security guards on the way to our homes, but I’d like to supplement them with some FBI special agents.”
“I’ll need to clear this with Director Lansing first, but given the circumstances, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“He’s going to ask what it’s all about.”
“I’ll deal with it. I’ll see if I can get the same SAs as last time.”
“Thank you. What about LG’s dogs?” He knew his concern sounded trifling at a time like this, but he’d given Linda his word. Besides, he really liked dogs—more so than most people.
“You said they’re in an upstairs closet, right?”
“That’s what LG told me. Collars and leashes in a kitchen drawer. Can we make sure they aren’t cooped up for more than three or four hours?”
“No problem. Harvey, you’ve been awfully quiet.”
“I’m just thinking that whoever’s behind this attack is going to know it didn’t succeed, especially if no one from the assault team reports in.”
“We’ll search the intruders at Genneken’s for cell phones and see if there’s been any recent text or voice communications.”
Nathan looked at Harv while he spoke. “We didn’t think to check the men we killed on the street for phone
s. We should’ve. Sorry about that.”
“Don’t beat yourselves up. I didn’t think of it either. I wanted you two out of there in a hurry. What’s the situation inside Genneken’s house?”
“It’s a mess,” Nathan said. “I saw six bodies and there’re at least two more in the backyard. The French door to her kitchen is broken out. Probably some windows as well.”
“Stay on the line, Nathan. I’ve got to take another call.”
The call went silent.
“Sorry about your car, Harv. We’ll park it in my garage until things calm down.”
His friend gave him the keys.
“I’ll be right back.” He found Angelica in the kitchen, handed her the keys, and asked her to move it. Back in the study, he said, “That firefight on the street is going to be on every morning news channel. A gun battle in the middle of a La Jolla neighborhood on New Year’s Eve will be the lead story. The news networks make their livings from this kinda stuff.”
“No doubt,” Harv said. “If those gunmen are foreign nationals, it’s going to generate a Homeland Security investigation. All kinds of questions will be asked. Cantrell reports to the DNI and there’s no way she’ll withhold this. We might find ourselves out of the loop.”
“LG’s not gonna back down. They murdered her husband and—”
Cantrell came back on the line. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries,” Nathan said. “We were just talking about containment.”
“Let me worry about that. Job one for you is to keep Genneken secure.”
Nathan exchanged a glance with Harv. They were thinking the same thing. Now was not a good time to say LG will be looking for payback.
“I’ve got you at your home address in La Jolla. Stay there until you hear back from me.”
“Before you go,” said Nathan quickly, “when I asked earlier, it seemed you might know what this is about. This call’s secure. Care to elaborate?”
“We’ve been getting reports of assassinations and kidnappings all over Central and South America over the last seven days. Until now, none of the bad guys have been killed or captured, so the police had little to go on. The victims cross all professions and economic groups. We think we’ve found a common element, but we’re still analyzing the data. The methods of assassination also vary. Some are home invasions, some are bombings. There’re also reports of arson and poisonings. Some people have just gone missing. It’s clear whoever’s behind the murders doesn’t want a discernible pattern to be discovered.”
“And you think tonight’s action is somehow related to those other cases?” Harv asked.
“We’re not 100 percent sure, but yes. We’ve been experimenting with a new computer algorithm that tracks this kind of thing. It’s still in beta stage but we’ve had some success.”
Nathan asked, “How does it work?”
“Needless to say, it’s extremely complex. It analyzes tens of millions of pieces of information. It collects intel from our agents and sources and similar agencies worldwide, then looks for follow-up law-enforcement intel or criminal activity at those locations. Ranging from countries and cities, down to street-level addresses, it plots the last known locations of people we suspect, people we’re watching, and people we know for certain are up to no good. Everything’s displayed on a giant wall of monitors, like newsrooms have. I wish we could take credit for the concept, but it was developed by the Israelis and they’ve had very good results.”
“Incredible,” Harv said. “Does it predict locations of future criminal or terrorist attacks?”
“No, but it finds connections between people and events that would otherwise be invisible.”
Harv said, “So the attack on LG connected her to some of these other incidents and addresses?”
“Correct.”
“Then it should’ve connected us as well,” Nathan said.
“It did. I just checked it.”
“Then it’s dynamic?” asked Harv. “Working in real time?”
“That’s right. About a dozen new data points came up tonight and several dozen others have new connections. I’m not the best person to explain exactly how it works, but in a nutshell, it finds patterns in seemingly random events.”
“I’d love to see your program in action,” Harv said.
“The next time you guys are out this way, I’ll arrange it.”
“So where does this leave things?” Nathan asked. “I don’t like the idea of an assault team coming after us.”
“I think it’s fair to say you guys just neutralized it,” Cantrell said.
Nathan said, “LG gets the credit. She did most of the heavy lifting before we got there.”
“Right. Now you guys hold tight and take care of her until you hear from me again. Stay alert, assume nothing, and be ready to move on a moment’s notice. I need to contact DNI Benson and update him. If that was a foreign assault team at Genneken’s house, it rises to his level of involvement. It will be his call.”
Nathan looked at Harv as Cantrell voiced their earlier concern.
“His call about what? How to handle it?” Harv asked. “As in, with or without us?”
“It’s entirely possible you guys may have to sit this one out. For the record, I’m not advocating that, but it’s not my decision.”
“We’re in this now,” Nathan said, “like your algorithm says. There’s no reason to believe they won’t make another attempt to capture Linda. And maybe Harv and me as well. LG told me the man she killed said they were going to take turns with her.” Nathan hadn’t wanted to mention that, but it seemed relevant now. Harv gave him an approving nod.
“I get that. All I’m saying is I have to be a team player. I can’t—won’t—do anything behind the DNI’s back. I’ve got some pull with him and the two of you have a proven history with me and he knows who you are. You’ve both been to the Oval Office, where the only awards you received were handshakes. That carries weight with me, and the DNI. Lots, actually. I don’t normally get involved at this level, but I make exceptions with you two.”
“Thank you, Rebecca. We appreciate it.”
“Under no circumstances is Genneken to go anywhere alone. What’s her husband’s name?”
“Glen.”
“Tell Linda we’ll take care of him, okay?”
“I will.” Nathan admired how Cantrell had softened her tone. It showed class.
“We’ll have both of your homes under constant surveillance within the next half hour or so. Harv, your sons are in college, right?”
“Yes.”
“And I’m assuming you guys have state-of-the-art security systems?”
“Identical to LG’s,” said Harv. “For better or worse. I told Candace to be ready for a call. She can be out the door inside thirty seconds. Like Nathan, I have a pair of tactical dogs. Malinois.”
“Belgian shepherds,” said Cantrell. “Nice. Nathan, I want you to dictate a brief op report and text it to me. Include everything you remember Genneken saying, no matter how unimportant it seems. I realize she was drugged when you found her, but I want everything. Do that right away.”
He exchanged another glance with Harv, and said, “Sure, no problem.”
“We’ll know more once we’ve interrogated the gunman from Genneken’s house.”
And just like that, the call went dark.
Cantrell rarely said goodbye. Nathan had asked her about it once; she’d said she was superstitious.
“Did that sound like what I think it sounded like?” Harv asked.
“Kinda. Cantrell has to look at the big picture. For the record, I think Genneken’s clean.”
“Me too.” Harv motioned with his head. “I’ll be outside keeping the mutts company until our personnel arrive.”
He smiled. “Be sure you turn them off before bringing them back in. You know the command word.”
“Indeed I do. I’d spell it, but I bet your dogs can read and write.”
“Practically.”
“Thanks, Harv. We’ll leave our radios on. I agree with Cantrell. I think we eliminated the threat, at least for now, but stay sharp anyway. Don’t forget to call Candace and tell her you’re okay.”
“I will. When was the last time you talked with Holly?”
“I texted her yesterday, but we haven’t spoken in several days.”
“Everything okay?”
“As far as I know. She’s just hopelessly buried. We’ve come to terms with the long-distance thing. She seems okay with it.”
“Are you?”
“It’s not like I have a choice.”
“You dodged the question.”
“Yeah, I guess I did . . .” At moments like these, he knew his friend wouldn’t press. “Truthfully, I wish we could spend more time together. I need to get out there.”
“Why don’t you schedule it?”
“Let’s get through the next forty-eight hours first.”
Alone in the room with Linda, he studied her Slavic facial features. Her nose looked bad, but it wasn’t deformed to one side or the other. She’d likely have two black eyes, though. For the first time he realized her resemblance to Holly was uncanny. They could easily have been distant relatives.
He felt a longing to call Holly. As the FBI’s chief of staff, she worked inside the Hoover Building in DC. He owed Holly more than he’d ever be able to repay. She’d showed him he didn’t have to be alone, that he could share his life with someone other than Harv and not be judged or condemned. They’d been an item ever since taking down the Bridgestone brothers. Back then, she’d been the special agent in charge of Sacramento’s field office. During a drive into the Sierra Nevada, they’d both taken risks and opened their souls, neither being evasive nor judgmental. When she’d been critically wounded by a Semtex bomb that destroyed a huge section of her field office, he’d never felt that degree of heartache. Seeing her broken and burned body in the hospital bed had torn him open. He remembered thinking: Is this what love feels like? If so, how do people survive it? An hour at a time, he supposed.
Like tonight.
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