by Evans, Misty
Her brain shifted and a thought popped into her head. “What if Susan did this? What if this is Plan B?”
Conrad crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her like she’d grown a second head. “Oh, come on, Jules. Recruiting a terrorist to take Stone and Allen hostage? That’s crazy. Even Susan isn’t that good.”
“Isn’t she?” Julia was sure Susan was exactly that adept. “By doing this, she can take out Director Allen, Michael, and Senator King with one fell swoop and if she’s crafty enough, make herself look like a leader in the process. If Michael’s out of commission, she’s next in line to head up Operations.”
Conrad stared at her for a long moment, considering her logic. “But she wants Allen’s job.”
“One step at a time and only Damgaard’s in her way if Michael and Titus both die.”
Ace started opening and closing cabinet doors, scanning the shelves. “Ryan called some friend of his at the FBI and alerted them. He says the whole place is locked down now so we have to meet at Julia’s apartment.” He opened another cabinet, scanned the shelves and closed it again. “Don’t you got any of those travel mug thingies for drinks?”
Conrad opened a cabinet above the microwave and handed two thermal coffee carriers to Ace, all the time his focus still on Julia. “Susan could be watching your apartment. I don’t think it’s safe for us to meet there.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Con.” She shook her head. “Susan’s right there at Michael’s house with the FBI. Or she’s making herself comfortable in Michael’s office at Langley. She has bigger fish to fry right now than us. We can always be rounded up later.”
“And with Stone, Allen and King all out of the way, no one will believe us.”
Ace finished filling the travel mugs and turned off the coffeepot. Julia started for the stairs. “All I need are my shoes and my gun and I’m ready to go.”
Conrad grabbed the cooling mug of coffee off the counter and downed it, rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand and motioned at Ace to get moving. “You heard the lady. Let’s go.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Arlington Agent Tim Buchanan surveyed the scene before him.
When he’d first arrived, only a few people had been in the area, keeping their presence concealed as they garnered information about what had happened during the night at 9125 Thurman Lane. Now, sunrise only four hours away, blue box vans were arriving, bodies dressed in black Nomex jumpsuits piling out of them. Gone was the need to keep the counterassault a secret, but reasonable precaution dictated each person keep a low profile so as to not become the next target of whoever was in the house. Voices were hushed, movement was directed and purposeful.
And, finally, the rain had quit.
A base of operations for the Critical Incident Response Group and the FBI’s Strategic Information Operations Center, or SIOC, had been set up using several vans and a massive black tent top. Three portable tables had been set up, men and women of the FBI manning laptops, phones, televisions and fax machines.
Two of the vans’ cargo doors were open, revealing an impressive assortment of communications and electronic equipment which was being checked and tested by three of the FBI’s best cyber geeks. Telephone transmissions into and out of the house were being controlled. Incoming calls would be intercepted. Outgoing calls would only ring to the secure phone under Tim Buchanan’s watchful eye.
The nearest neighbors, who were a mile away on either side, had been evacuated. Traffic on the road was being diverted. Air space had been secured. The house itself sat quiet. The three bodies of the fallen Secret Service men lay sprawled beside the porch in pools of their own blood…the only visible testament to the seriousness of the situation.
The HRT’s best sniper, Agent Elaina Koburn, approached the table, nodding as she came to stand beside him. “What a way to start the day, huh, sir?”
Tim nodded. “Appears someone woke up on the wrong side of the world again and decided to take it out on us over-privileged Americans.”
She scanned the area with a dark look in her eyes. “Do we know what group we’re dealing with?”
“No contact with them yet, but probably a cell allied to bin Laden or another Middle East group according to my source.” He motioned toward the house. “That’s no group of everyday psychos in there. I’d say from the way the situation has proceeded up to this point, the attackers are intelligent and highly trained. Holy Warrior bad boys dispersing God’s wrath on us is my guess. I just can’t figure out why they haven’t made contact.”
“A mute entity is hard to negotiate with.”
“Negotiate?” Tim’s expression showed a spark of humor. “Why, Agent Koburn, you know the United States doesn’t negotiate with terrorists.”
Elaina smiled at him. “Of course it does, sir. That’s why we’re here.”
Within minutes, the rest of the HRT was present and accounted for as well as a Special Op group of SEALs. Tim welcomed them to the table. “First let’s start with what we know,” he said, glancing at the digital watch on his arm. “Approximately six hours ago, between six and seven p.m., a group of people including Senator Daniel King and CIA Director Titus Allen entered Operations Director Michael Stone’s house for a meeting between the three of them. None of these people have emerged from that meeting, nor can they be raised by phone. Neither the DCI’s driver nor his security protection officer have responded to pages or made contact with anyone since that time and we are assuming without further ID their bodies are those out front. Senator King was traveling alone. Director Stone had two security officers on the property, one at the gate, the other inside the house. No unusual or suspicious activity was reported by any security detail.”
Everyone was quiet. Tim continued. “The people in charge have not made contact with us at this point, but we are assuming they are terrorists. We do not know their demands and can only guess at their motive. I have been informed this is, so far, an isolated incident. The president and vice president are secured in their appropriate residences. All cabinet members and the other three CIA deputy directors are accounted for at this time. Susan Richmond, the CTC Chief, will be joining us shortly along with her top counterterrorism experts. All other congressional members have also checked in.”
Unrolling a sheet of blueprints, Tim anchored the corners on the table for everyone to examine. “We have secured the perimeter of the Stone residence and are ready for our counterassault team to begin reconnaissance shortly.”
Tim took a deep breath and rubbed his hands together. “Now, are there any questions?”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ryan Smith’s cell phone rang. “Uh-oh,” he said reading the small caller ID window and giving Conrad a look. Their two a.m. breakfast of Hostess donuts and coffee in Julia’s small kitchen had been full of analyzing and brainstorming, but the trepidation in Smitty’s voice silenced them all.
“Uh-oh?” Ace spoke around a mouthful of powdered sugar donut, his eyes wide. “What ‘uh-oh’?”
Conrad motioned to Smitty as the phone buzzed again. “Give it to me. I’ll handle her.”
Smitty passed the phone across the table to him and Julia dropped her half-eaten donut on the plate in front of her, appetite gone.
Letting the phone ring a third time, Conrad flipped open the cover and chose his words carefully. “I’d say I was sorry Plan A failed, but you’d know I was lying.”
Julia smiled at him and he smiled back as he listened for Susan Richmond’s response. There was none for a few seconds.
“I assume your ex-partner is with you,” she said in a terse voice.
“Assume whatever you like.”
“I need to talk to her. We have a…” she paused, searching for the right terminology that could be used in an open phone conversation, “…situation that requires her skills.”
“Sure you do. And Osama bin Laden just confessed his sins to the Pope.”
“This concerns her friend at the Agency. He’s in seriou
s danger.”
If Susan wanted to flush Julia out of hiding, Stone was the perfect carrot to dangle in her face. Conrad decided to play dumb and see what Susan tried next. “What kind of danger?”
The CTC chief sighed. “It’s just like you to need a visual aid, Solomon. Turn on CNN. I’ll call you back in five minutes.”
The call was terminated and Conrad threw the phone down on the table. He left the kitchen, his friends exchanging a glance between them before jumping up to follow.
In the living room, he flipped channels on the satellite dish receiver, landing on CNN. The female anchor was starting the hour’s top breaking news story. Conrad turned up the volume as Ace camped on the floor. Julia and Smitty stood behind Ace.
“Sources inside the White House confirm there is a domestic terrorist situation at the home of CIA director of Operations Michael Stone outside of Arlington, Virginia.”
Julia sucked in a sharp breath and shot a glance at Conrad. “It’s already on the national news? That’s bad. This broadcast is going worldwide. The terrorist is getting exactly what he wants.”
Conrad gave a curt nod. “And Susan along with him.”
“…We go now to WQPX correspondent, Gus Schultz, who is on location. Gus, what can you tell us?”
A panoramic view of Virginia countryside appeared, eerily beautiful in the dark of night. Only an assortment of commercial vans and Ninja figures moving around marred the otherwise peaceful setting. As the camera zoomed in on the TV news reporter, orange barricades and law enforcement officials could be seen in the background. “I am standing here a few blocks away from the home of Michael Stone. He is the Director of Operations for the Central Intelligence Agency. In other words, he is the man in charge of the CIA’s spy group. It is believed that along with Director Stone, there are several prominent members of the Washington political system being held hostage by a group of terrorists, including the CIA’s top man, Titus Allen, and Senator Daniel King, a democrat from Illinois and head of the Senate Intelligence Committee…”
“All thorns in Susan’s side,” Conrad murmured.
“I’m going to kill her,” Julia said to no one in particular.
“…Inside sources tell me Senator Daniel King and CIA Director Titus Allen were in attendance at the Stone home last night when a group of men, whose affiliation and motive are unclear at this point, infiltrated the house and took them hostage.”
Julia narrowed her eyes at the TV. “I will tear her limb from limb.”
“We have confirmation at least two Secret Service officers are dead and several others missing.”
“Three,” Smitty corrected. “Three are dead.”
The camera shifted away from the reporter and zoomed in at the area around the house. “The FBI has moved in a hostage rescue team and is being assisted by Special Operations commandos. I am told by an on-the-scene source that FBI negotiators are attempting to contact the terrorists now.”
The cell phone on the kitchen table rang, breaking the intensity of the moment. Julia was on her feet and moving toward it in a split second. Conrad moved to catch her, but Smitty was already a step ahead of him, wrapping a lanky arm around Julia’s slim waist and swinging her back in front of him.
She fought against his grip. “I’m going to claw her eyes out.”
“Let Con handle Susan,” Smitty said. “Then we’ll figure out how to resolve this.”
“I want to talk to her.”
Smitty shook his head, held Julia firmly. “No, Julia. Not while you’re this emotional. Let Con handle her this time. I promise you’ll get your chance to kill her later.” He nodded at Conrad.
Conrad walked into the kitchen, stared at the phone and took a deep breath. The situation was indeed serious, but Susan’s request for Julia’s assistance was out of line. Domestic terrorism was the FBI’s jurisdiction since Americans had a healthy suspicion and dislike for the CIA operating on its home turf. And what value was one CIA analyst to a highly organized and trained conglomerate of counterterrorism and counterassault experts?
It had to be another of Susan’s traps. Conrad ran a hand over his sandpaper beard before flipping the phone’s cover open. “I wouldn’t want to be you right now, Chief.”
Susan’s voice was more relaxed this time. “Oh, I don’t know. This situation could work in my favor. In the meantime, Damgaard has requested your partner’s presence at the site. Her knowledge about the people inside could be of great value to those in charge.”
“You know who the hostage takers are?”
Her silence lasted one beat too long. “The FBI has identified several possibilities.”
Conrad still wasn’t totally convinced Susan was capable of orchestrating a hostage situation itself, but he knew she was definitely capable of manipulating the fallout from it. “And what guarantee does my partner have that you won’t proceed with your previous plan?”
“No guarantees, but I’ll allow you to come in with her.”
Conrad snorted. “Way to dangle the carrot, Chief. The queen comes in after her friend and I come in after her. Aren’t you going to invite Smitty too?”
Susan tsked at him. Her voice now held challenge. “Afraid of me, Solomon?”
Gripping the phone to keep from throwing it against the wall, Con forced himself back from the edge. His mind tripped through Julia’s plan and another couple of scenarios, and he saw a kernel of opportunity sitting in his hand. He smiled as he spoke. “A piece of advice for you. If you’re going to hang your collective balls out, you better damn well know how to protect them.”
“My balls are in no danger from you, Solomon,” Susan said, bemused. “There will be ID badges and a personal escort waiting for you and your partner at the north entrance to the site. I expect to see her within the hour.”
She hung up and Flynn looked over to see Julia standing in the doorway, Smitty behind her.
“The web is strung.” He leaned on the table. “The spider’s waiting.”
Julia pulled the Beretta out of the back of her waistband and checked its clip. “Good.” She snapped it back in. “Then it’s time for me to give her what she wants.”
Chapter Forty
The doorbell rang and Julia jumped, drawing her gun instinctively and pointing it at the door. Staring through the peephole, she relaxed, let out the breath she was holding and returned her gun to her waistband. She called to Con and Smitty, “It’s Cari.”
“Make sure she’s alone,” Con said from his hiding place behind the living room doorway.
Julia double-checked. “She’s alone.” She unlocked and opened the door.
Cari pushed by her. “I need a drink. What do you have?”
“Excuse me?”
Cari paused to look Conrad over as he emerged from hiding. “You again.”
“Ditto,” he replied.
Continuing on to the kitchen, Cari addressed Smitty who was standing by the back door. “Liquor.” Her tone was demanding. “What do you have?”
Julia exchanged a look with Conrad, and he rolled his eyes.
Cari threw herself down in a chair across from Ace and rested her forehead in her hands. “What a night.” Raising her head, she pointed at Smitty. “Why are you not getting me something to drink?”
“I’ll drive you down to the liquor shop and buy you a case of the finest brandy they have,” Conrad said, “as soon as you tell me what Plan B is.”
Cari dropped her head slightly and gave him a wide-eyed look. “Raissi.”
Julia’s brain clicked with instant recognition. “Fayez Raissi? The terrorist?”
Cari smoothed a section of her hair back. “You mean the great CIA analyst didn’t know? Susan has been throwing him into your lap for the past week and you did not guess?”
Julia put her fingers to her mouth and looked up at the ceiling, feeling like a fool. Then she took a deep breath, drew out a chair and sat next to Cari. “Susan brought Raissi here to take Michael and the others hostage.”
“No.” Cari wagged a finger at her. “I brought Fayez here. He is a rude lout too. I almost gave him another scar to carry around.”
Smitty leaned against the counter. “But Susan provided his papers, right? To get him in the country? She’s using him as her backup plan.”
“Of course. But, his plan and her plan…” Cari tipped her flat hand back and forth. “I don’t think they were the same plan. Fayez, he wanted to blow something big up, not take hostages.”
“Something big?” Smitty echoed. “Like what? A building? A bridge? A power plant?”
Cari smiled. “The Agency.”
Conrad whistled under his breath. “So why did he end up at Stone’s house with three hostages?”
Cari shrugged. “All I know is everybody is supposed to die.”
“Jesus,” Julia said softly. Her stomach felt like someone was wringing her insides out like a wet washcloth. She had to get to the hostage site and let the FBI know who they were dealing with and what his plans were.
She rose from the table. “I’ve got to go.”
“I’m going too,” Cari said. “With you.”
“No,” Con and Smitty said in unison.
Julia checked herself. “You can’t come with me, Cari.”
Cari smiled. “We are a team, now.” She pointed to each of them and herself. “If Stone and Allen die, I have no one to protect me, except the three of you.” She glanced at Ace. “And you, I guess.”
Ace puffed out his chest and offered Cari his hand. “Ace Harmon, wheelman.”
Cari shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, wheelman.”
Conrad threw his hands in the air. “Un-fucking-believable.”
“We’re wasting time.” Julia grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair. “Let’s go.”
Cari gave Conrad a look. “Don’t forget, you owe me a case of brandy.”