A sudden bright light flared to the north, swept across the water and shone directly at the boat as Abrahem looked up and heard an American voice echoing across the water.
‘United States Coast Guard! Unidentified vessel in the channel, heave to and prepare to be boarded!’
Abrahem felt surprise and fear pulse like a bolt of poison through his veins as the captain called aft to him in a harsh whisper.
‘They must already be looking for you!’
Abrahem should have known that the damned Americans would be waiting for him already. He had of course guessed that the Americans would assume his target to be in the United States but he enjoyed the thought of them panicking to reach him before he carried out his attack. The fear of his enemy was a pleasure for Abrahem, to be savored at every opportunity.
‘Get out of sight below decks!’
Abrahem whirled toward the boat’s stern and the hatch there that led into the depths of the boat. He opened the hatch and then let it close again with a dull thump before creeping further aft toward the boat’s stern rail. The inky black water surged with foam as the engines churned the river behind the boat, and Abrahem could already feel the chill embrace of the icy water as he pulled off his clothes. He only had one dry kit with him, having planned to get wet only once, and he knew that he would not survive long if he reached the shore in damp clothes. He placed his dry clothes carefully in the deepest, darkest corner of the deck that he could find.
As the boat came chugging to a halt on the river and the engines coughed to a halt, Abrahem slipped over the stern of the boat and vanished like a dangerous thought into the black water.
*
‘Prepare to be boarded!’
The crewman’s loud hailer echoed across the otherwise silent water, bounced back by the tree line a half mile away. The eighty seven foot coastal patrol boat on which the captain stood slowly eased in toward the small vessel that had chugged its way up the channel from the open ocean. Ordinarily such an act would not have concerned the Coast Guard, but with Delaware’s wide open coastline a haven for drugs coming up from the south, any boat in the channel at four o’clock in the morning was suspicious. More than once the Coast Guard had hauled hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of high–grade street drugs off small vessels just like this one.
The tug was grubby, patches of rust lining its cabin, and he could see only two men at the helm. Both were dark skinned, foreign looking, their hands in the air and their eyes squinting against the powerful lights flooding the tug’s deck. The captain had seen the reports issued by the Coast Guard alerting crews to a potential terrorist threat from illegal immigrants attempting to infiltrate the United States in Washington DC and the surrounding areas, and right now he felt tension aching in his joints as he called out again.
‘Keep your hands in the air where we can see them!’
The Coast Guard boat slid in alongside the tug and the captain, a pistol held in both hands close to his body, jumped across onto the tug’s deck. As the only part of the Department of Homeland Security that was also a part of the military, the Coast Guard patrol boat and its three crewmembers were all armed.
‘Take it easy,’ the captain said to the two sailors as he advanced upon the tug’s small wheel house. ‘Keep your arms up and turn around slowly.’
The two crewmen did as he commanded, turning around and facing the wheel as the captain moved behind them. He checked to ensure that he was covered by his comrades before he holstered his pistol and then cuffed them both.
‘What brings you out onto the water this late at night?’ he asked them as he turned them around.
‘Fishing,’ the older of the two said. ‘The bigger fish come out in the early hours.’
‘That’s true,’ the captain agreed. ‘But you need nets to fish them, so where’s your gear?’
‘We use floating nets,’ the younger man replied. ‘We put them out off shore and will return to them with the dawn.’
The captain eyed both of the men, his instincts tingling with the sense that something was amiss. He pulled his flashlight out and scanned the interior of the tug. As he swept the beam across the stern, he saw a small pile of clothes close to the stern rail.
Concern flashed through him like a bolt of lightning and he turned to shout a warning to the patrol boat as one hand reached for his pistol again.
‘You’d better call in, we’ve got a swimmer in the…’
The captain saw the bodies of his two colleagues lying on the deck of their patrol boat only for an instant before his view was blocked by a fast moving shadow that filled his vision.
The figure loomed at him, ghoulishly illuminated by the harsh white lights of the patrol boat. The captain glimpsed the naked man’s muscular body, water sparkling as it snaked down his flanks, his hair wet and lank and his eyes dark and fearsome as something flashed between them.
The captain felt a thin strip of white pain sear his throat as the naked man gripped his wrist and stayed his pistol. Warm blood flooded thickly down the captain’s chest as he was slammed against the wheelhouse, the naked man pinning him there as he struck with the blade once more. The wicked knife plunged deep into the captain’s throat, and though he writhed with terminal desperation the weapon sliced his arteries within seconds and the life drained out of his body as the darkness and the cold seeped in.
*
Abrahem watched the Coast Guard sailor’s body slump to the deck at his feet, which was now slick with blood still pumping from the deep wounds in the mariner’s neck. Beside him, he heard the younger of the tug’s two crewmen turn aside and vomit over the rail into the water.
‘There is not much time,’ Abrahem said as he turned to the older man. ‘The Coast Guard will be here within minutes once they realize they cannot contact their comrades. We must make shore and disappear.’
The tug’s captain glanced at the patrol boat and the bodies of the other two crewmen slumped against the controls. Abrahem had killed them silently, like some horrific beast of the night, and then moved back aboard the tug to finish off their captain. Now he stood in the harsh light, naked and smeared with thick blood, the blade dripping in his grasp.
‘Move, now!’ Abrahem snapped.
The captain and his crewman stumbled over themselves as they hurried to carry out his order, and Abrahem strolled to the stern and dried himself.
America will know now for certain that I have arrived, he realized.
And he smiled in the darkness.
***
XXXIV
Ronald Reagan Washington DC Airport
Hannah Ford walked off the Boeing 747–400 in a daze, her thoughts fuzzy as she followed the crowds by unthinking reflex through the terminal. Vaughn walked alongside her as they fought their way past the lengthy queues already forming heavy barriers between themselves and the terminal exits. A US Marshall led the way, having been on the same flight and informed of the importance of their mission.
The United red–eye out of Hong Kong had taken eighteen hours, stopping off briefly at New York, during which time Hannah had made a call to the Bureau and informed Director LeMay of what she knew. Since then there had been no contact and her cell phone was silent as she checked it for messages or missed calls.
‘Nothing,’ she informed Vaughn as they reached the security areas and passport control. It took only a couple of minutes for their identity badges to see them through the security check points, the Marshall turning back into the terminal.
‘He’s already here,’ Vaughn said as they walked out of the airport and into the morning sunshine. ‘Must be, and they’ve got their hands full searching for him.’
Hannah tried to push her lethargy away. Despite the length of the flight she had been unable to sleep, driven to distraction by the helplessness of being trapped aboard an aircraft and unable to act on her instincts and pursue the men that she knew were coming here to do harm to her country. Her eyes itched and occasional spells of dizziness swayed he
r as she tried to remember where they had left the pool car.
‘It’s over here,’ Vaughn said as he spotted their vehicle.
Hannah followed him across the lot and saw the blue Lincoln parked where they had left it. She yanked up the trunk and tossed in their small travel bags before she made her way to the passenger’s side.
‘You not driving?’ Vaughn asked in surprise.
‘I’ve got a call to make,’ she replied as she climbed in.
The interior of the car was warm as Vaughn drove and the sunshine beaming through the windshield lulled her into a warm lullaby of sleep. Hannah closed her eyes and sat in silence, letting the motion of the vehicle turning through the parking lot and the whisper of the engine draw her ever deeper into sleep.
The shrill warble of her cell phone snapped her back into life and she stared vacantly down at it. A number she did not recognize awaited her, the screen glowing bright blue as she answered.
‘Ford.’
‘LeMay.’
‘Sir, we need to talk.’
‘You’ve been cut out,’ LeMay replied. ‘We all have.’
‘Cut out of what?’ Hannah asked as she set the cell to speaker phone.
‘The investigation,’ LeMay snapped back, anger clear in his tones. ‘The President has handed the entire investigation over to the Defense Intelligence Agency. We’re out of the loop.’
Hannah’s addled brain struggled to focus.
‘How can the FBI be out of the loop on something like this?!’
‘I can only assume that Warner and Lopez are spreading disinformation about what’s happening. Warner has personal history with the president, who appears to be taking his advice at face value. I don’t know what he’s said as I wasn’t invited to a meeting they had at the White House yesterday afternoon.’
Hannah reeled mentally as she tried to think of something useful to say.
‘We’re sure that Abrahem Nassir is either in the country already or arriving shortly,’ she said.
‘He’s in the country all right,’ LeMay replied. ‘Homeland just reported the murder of three Coast Guard officers out near Cape May, Delaware. Their patrol boat went incognito in the early hours and their bodies were later found aboard. They’d had their throats cut.’
‘Does Homeland have a trail?’
‘They’ve identified the boat they think must have picked up Abrahem Nassir to bring him into the country, and another larger vessel that sailed up from South America yesterday for Maine. It looks like Nassir jumped ship a couple of times. His accomplices stole the boat that brought him in, but they’re in the wind and so is Nassir. Homeland’s working on it as we speak.’
‘Damn it,’ Hannah snapped as she slammed a hand down on her thigh in futility. ‘He’s got to be heading for a major target. He’s come this far, he’s not going to settle for bombing a convenience store. He’ll hit the Capitol or the White House or something.’
‘The White House is on full alert, but the President also has an open–air address this evening on the South Lawn as part of a Trans Pacific Trade agreement ceremony celebrating a new deal with China.’
Hannah’s mind stopped working for a moment as she reflected on this new piece of information. She could feel her brain ticking over but it was almost as though she could not quite control the train of her thoughts.
‘Who will be there?’ she asked impulsively.
‘Most of the administration, at least three former Presidents and First Ladies and Senators from fifteen states, along with the President of the People’s Republic of China.’
‘That’s a lot of big wheels in one place,’ Vaughn observed as he drove. ‘He might try to hit them all at once.’
Hannah shook her head to clear it as she replied.
‘He can’t have travelled with any kind of incendiary device, so he’ll have to make contact with somebody here. He has a network, finance, people supporting him and helping him on his way. If we can pin them down it might lead us to Abrahem before he can strike.’
‘I already have teams on it,’ LeMay said. ‘We’ll be arresting known Islamist sympathizers and already have half a dozen in custody. We’re hoping that we can break Nassir’s chain of support sufficiently that he cannot carry out his attack, but it’s a long shot.’
‘Too long,’ Hannah agreed. ‘We can’t take the chance that he’ll not have something already prepared, something or somebody here ready to go. This whole thing is about revenge on the United States, and given the way that he’s travelled he must have planned this for months, perhaps even years.’
‘Everything must have been laid out in advance,’ Vaughn said, ‘he must have flown from Africa to South America to get here so fast. That means huge financial power behind him. The money trail’s our best bet.’
‘Agreed,’ LeMay replied. ‘Right now we’re looking into the financials of several companies, including the one that hired a private jet out of Kenya for The Dominican Republic yesterday and is likely the route that Nassir took. I’ll pass on the address of the company to you both.’
Hannah nodded. ‘What about Mitchell?’
‘What about him?’
‘He turned up in Hong Kong, had a Chinese operative by the name of Jin Chen tied to a tree and was torturing him for information. It was he who left me for dead at the hands of the Chinese, and his presence at the scene of Jin Chen’s murder is the only thing that will prevent us from being arrested for the homicide. Mitchell means business and he’s clearly as involved with this operation as he was with the death of Stanley Meyer. What’s his connection, sir?’
‘I don’t know, but he’s not the priority right now Agent Ford. Your priority is locating Abrahem Nassir and apprehending him before he can initiate a national tragedy. I don’t want another nine–eleven on our hands because we dropped the ball here.’
‘We haven’t dropped the ball,’ Hannah shot back, ‘it’s been taken from us and we’re being hunted because of that.’
‘That’s not the way the media will see it if the White House lawns look like a scene from a horror movie tonight,’ LeMay replied. ‘I can’t get any closer to this operation than I already am without attracting the attention of the DIA. As far as they’re aware, you two are still pinned down in Hong Kong and are wanted fugitives – law enforcement will be looking for you if I pass on the information I received from our Hong Kong office and I can only hang onto it for so long. You’re the only ones who can get close to this now and if you want to clear your names there’s only one way to do it. Find Nassir and report back to me.’
‘Yes sir,’ Hannah replied, and the line went dead.
She looked across at Vaughn, who raised an eyebrow.
‘I don’t believe this is happening,’ he said finally. ‘He wants us to go rogue and finish this on our own?’
Hannah nodded, fatigue weighing heavily on her shoulders as she looked in the rear view mirror and saw her reflection. She looked like crap, her nose still swollen and her eyes bloodshot and bleary.
‘We’re not exactly in the best of shape right now,’ Vaughn added, as if noticing the direction of her gaze.
Vaughn’s face was also puffy from the blows he’d received at the hands of the Chinese, and he looked as though he were some kind of street thug recovering from a particularly rough night out.
‘At least for once we don’t look like federal agents,’ she pointed out. ‘Maybe we can get closer to Nassir and his people this way.’
Vaughn thought for a moment.
‘Do we have an address for the company that financed the private jet flight out of Africa?’
Hannah looked down vaguely at her cell phone and realized that LeMay had already sent a series of files to her. She opened one and scanned the contents.
‘It’s registered to an address on 8th Street South East,’ she replied, ‘Vantage Aviation Hire.’
Vaughn switched lanes as they crossed the Rochambreau Memorial Bridge over the Potomac.
‘Let’s get
down there and figure this out.’
*
Dulles International Airport,
Virginia
The Bombadier Global 6000 private jet touched down on Dulles’ runway, Aaron Mitchell watching the terminals and taxiways race past as the aircraft engaged its reverse thrust system and the pilots applied the brakes. The large, sleek jet slowed dramatically before it turned off the runway and began taxiing to the executive terminal.
Mitchell pushed away the fatigue aching through his bones as saw a pair of glossy black limousines awaiting him near the aircraft parking area. He knew that Majestic Twelve were keen to obtain the technology that the Chinese had developed, although he still had no idea himself precisely what they intended to do with it. The constant lack of information was both troubling and frustrating for him: frustrating because he could not effectively apply what he didn’t know to the search he was conducting, and troubling because he could not be sure of the group’s motives on this occasion.
The jet came to a stop near the terminals and Mitchell stood and stalked to the jet’s door. A stewardess opened it and Mitchell stepped out into the fresh morning air and descended the jet’s steps. He strode across to the waiting vehicles, and was directed by a suited agent toward the limousine on the right.
The door opened and Mitchell climbed in and slammed it shut behind him.
‘What news?’
Victor Wilms sat inside the vehicle, his gray eyes settling on Mitchell’s. Opposite him sat FBI Director LeMay.
‘The Chinese were behind the abduction of four NSA agents in Kowloon in 1997,’ Mitchell replied, ‘as we presumed. They have further developed technology stolen from the NSA agents that allows them to control human minds, and have managed to implant members of the United States military during the Iraq conflict. They used Iraqi citizens to implant the technology during normal surgical procedures, one of whom, an Abrahem Nassir, is now on the warpath here in the United States.’
The Identity Mine (Warner & Lopez Book 3) Page 22