by Geri Krotow
“You also told me you understood why I had to get out and that you wished you had the courage to do the same.”
Helen sent her a level gaze. “I did, didn’t I?”
“Yes. Speaking of which, how’s your love life?”
“It sucks.”
Helen stopped talking and stared out the window at the vista of San Antonio. Joy saw her chest rise and fall as she took a deep breath before turning to face her again.
“You could do everything right, Joy. Finally free Brad and Farid from the threat of a rogue terrorist.”
“And?”
“And you could still wind up alone, get disbarred—or worse, get yourself and those who matter most to you killed.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
BRAD FELT LIKE a slouch for not going in to the office Friday morning, but Mike was right; he’d done enough work for all of them over the past several months. He felt relief—and some pride—at having taken down a terrorist cell, no matter how small in the relative scheme of things. Now he sat on his sofa with his coffee, watching one of his favorite guy flicks—adventure and mayhem all the way.
A knock at the door had him alert and forgetting his vow to relax as he muted the television. He waited. He wasn’t expecting anyone and—
Joy. It had to be Joy. Maybe she’d taken the day off, after all. They’d talked at length last night and she’d said she’d be out of town on some business this weekend. That she’d fill him in later.
He walked to the door as the second knock came simultaneously with the doorbell.
Out of habit, he looked through the side frosted windows that framed the door—and froze.
The shape on his porch wasn’t female, and it definitely wasn’t Joy.
He checked the peephole he’d installed when he renovated the front entrance. He hadn’t wanted to put in a camera, not at his home. This was his one respite from anything work related.
Maybe he’d made a mistake.
He cracked open the door.
“Hi, Mr. Brad. It’s me, Farid.”
“I know who you are. What are you doing here?” Brad scanned the street for signs of anyone else. “How did you find me?”
Farid shrugged. “Google. You forgot to make sure your real estate purchase wasn’t put up.”
Crap.
“Get in.”
Brad locked the door behind them and turned to face the man he’d fought to set free from a life in prison. The man who’d saved his life and the lives of his SEAL team.
He knew Farid wasn’t here on a social visit. People in the Witness Security Program made contact with former acquaintances at the risk of their own lives.
“What’s this about?”
Farid looked tired but otherwise much healthier, much more alive than he had in Virginia. But lines of worry or stress streaked across his face, and Brad’s stomach tensed in warning.
“I saw the news and I had to come and tell you. I know the authorities think they have everyone, but there’s still someone who’s not going to stop until you and General Grimes are dead.”
“Spit it out, Farid.”
“My name’s Ricardo now. And it’s someone from my village who was able to come here as a refugee. That person—I don’t know exactly who—is connected to a man from my village. Hasan. And Hasan is trying to stir up trouble and wants to recruit homegrown terrorists here. He’s a very bad man, Brad.”
His plans to make a life with Joy collapsed.
“Why are they after me and General Grimes?”
“As far as Hasan’s concerned, you’re the enemy. Like me. One of us. You saved me, Mr. Brad. Without Miss Alexander’s help and your testimony, I’d still be in Gitmo.”
“It’s Brad. Just Brad.”
“Brad. I didn’t tell Miss Alexander all I knew about him. I was afraid he’d find out and hurt my family before you got them here. And it didn’t have anything to do with the case. Not at the time...”
“What exactly happened to make this one man so focused on me and General Grimes?”
Farid’s dark eyes filled with anger, hatred, warning. “It wasn’t because of the general even though he thinks it was. But some of the Taliban went crazy one night after your team had gone through our village. I witnessed them hurting the women in the village. I had to save my sisters and mother, so I did that by hiding them. But I couldn’t protect all the women. In the morning, the story was that your SEAL team did the crimes. It’s the propaganda the Taliban spreads against America and your allies.”
Brad sank onto his stairs. “How do you know that, Farid?”
“I heard Hasan say that. I was still in the village. He vowed payback for the women who were hurt and the men who died. He’s a zealot and couldn’t accept that his own countrymen would do that. He let the Taliban convince him it was the Americans.”
“You’re talking about a very dangerous kind of operation, Farid. You say he’s bringing terrorist acts to American soil?”
Farid nodded. “Yes. That is why I’ve come forward. When I saw the reports about Whidbey Island on television, I knew you had to be involved in the case somehow, because it’s so close to where you live now, and the way it happened is pure Hasan. If who he has working for him here knows where you are, and it might be more than one person, they’ll come for you. If you have a family, they’ll try to hurt them, too.”
Brad felt the blood drain from his face.
“Hell, Farid.” His actions of the past week might have taken Hasan’s thug right to Joy.
“That’s why I came, Brad. I couldn’t bear to see Hasan hurt one more person. I saw the names of the men they arrested on Whidbey. One is originally from my village. He immigrated here as a young boy. His sisters, his mother—they were all raped by the Taliban, but like I said, he thinks it was Americans who came in the dark of night. His family vowed revenge.”
Thoughts raced through Brad’s mind. He focused in on the cell members talking about retaliation. Only one of them had appeared to be of Afghan descent, but he spoke with no accent and said he’d been in the States for ten years.
“I’ve got to make some calls. You’re coming into the office with me.”
“Yes.”
* * *
THEY WALKED INTO the Bureau office after Farid had gone through almost an hour of extra security. Brad had already checked him over for a weapon; after everything he’d been through in the past few days he wasn’t about to risk finding out that Farid was a bad guy, no matter how improbable that was. He’d been wrong before. Not often, but nothing was foolproof.
Brad’s team eyed him as he walked by their cubicles. This wasn’t the time for the celebratory high fives they’d exchange later.
There was more business to tend to first.
Mike was waiting in his office. He stood when Brad and Farid entered.
“I thought I told you to take some time off.”
“Yeah, well, think again.”
“Farid.” Mike stuck out his hand. Farid shook it firmly and with a confidence he hadn’t had since before he’d left his native land. Apparently, the Witness Security Program had given him a good life.
“I’m sorry to meet you again under these circumstances.” Farid spoke as if what he’d told Brad was concrete evidence.
“Hell, Farid, I’m sorry you’re risking your life by coming out of WSP.”
“Other lives are at stake. They will be until Hasan and his agents come to justice. Until my village learns the truth.”
“Sit down, Farid.” Mike didn’t even look at Brad. He didn’t have to. They were of one mind at this point in their careers.
“Fill me in on what you’ve said to Brad.” Farid’s story was the same one he’d told Brad, but he spoke with even more passion now. He believed in what he was saying, and the sickening free-fall sensation in Brad’s stomach convinced him it was the truth.
“I know it was wrong to not say anything during the trial. But it wasn’t asked of me, and once General Grimes was called in t
o testify on my behalf, I didn’t want to risk letting him keep me behind bars. I know he never wanted me out.” Farid looked at Brad, and his gratitude was clear, despite the immediate concern.
“Mike, we need to get someone to go after Hasan in-country.”
Mike pinched the top of his nose and took a deep breath. “That sounds good, in theory. But what do we have besides Farid’s testimony?” He looked at Farid. “Do you have other family members, other villagers, who’d be willing to testify against him?”
“No.”
“That makes it a little tough from our end.”
“You caught three here so far?” Farid— Ricardo—asked. “That’s what the news said. But those three won’t know Hasan personally. They might not even know about him. There has to be a go-between. There are always more of them, waiting for their call to action.”
“Yes, you’re right, and yes, we’ve arrested three.” Mike left out the part about Brad taking out the fourth, the man who’d been in the act of launching the SAM. “If I have my say, they’re going to jail for the rest of their lives for attempted terrorism, conspiracy to commit terrorism and threatening a United States Military officer.”
“That’s not Farid’s concern, Mike.”
“Farid, I need a minute with Brad. Do you mind waiting outside?”
Mike rose and escorted Farid to the reception area, where his administrative assistant offered him coffee and water.
Once back in the office, Mike shut the door and turned to Brad. “How the hell did he find you?”
“He said it was on Google. Through the real estate company.”
“Son of a bitch, Brad. That was pretty damn careless.”
Brad stayed silent. “Look,” Mike went on. “We don’t have anything on this Hasan character yet, so whatever Farid saw or knows, it’s moot. It’d only be slander at this point.” Mike sat back at his desk.
“Farid’s a thoughtful dude, Mike. He hasn’t risked his life by stepping out of WSP on a whim.”
“I know.”
“What about the sleeper agent we haven’t ID’d yet?”
“I have a feeling he—and any accomplices he might still have—will be striking soon, one way or another. We’ll get them, Brad, of that I’m certain. I just don’t want to lose anyone in the process.”
“I’m worried I’ve led them to Joy.”
Mike nodded. “So am I. She’s gone until tomorrow. Why don’t you head out to Whidbey in the morning and meet a tech team there? Get her house swept before she gets back.”
“I’d feel better if we got a security detail on her now.” She’d finally admitted in her last text that she was going to meet an old JAG friend in San Antonio.
“Already ahead of you, man.”
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, Brad let himself in Joy’s side door just as he had less than a week ago, when he’d scaled the side of West Beach. He motioned for the two techs he’d brought with him to follow.
Mike’s suggestion that they sweep Joy’s house had given Brad pause. Mike had confirmed Brad’s deepest fear. That Joy would get hurt, or worse.
“Looks like someone beat us to it.” Agent Susie Blackthorne stood next to him, with Agent Tim Parker a step behind.
Brad schooled himself to stay calm and detached as he took in the disaster that used to be Joy’s home. The kitchen where he’d kissed her had every drawer pulled out, the contents dumped on the floor in a pile of spice jars, smashed pantry contents and cooking utensils.
Tim whistled long and slow. “Any idea what they were after?”
Brad shook his head. “My guess is that it wasn’t the same thing you’re here for. Why don’t you make your sweep while I look around? We’ll call in the Island County sheriff when we’re done.”
He was stepping outside protocol, since a routine break-in was within the jurisdiction of the local authorities, either Oak Harbor PD or the sheriff. But he felt that taking some leeway was justified, because this was personal, and anyone who was after Joy would have to go through him first.
As he pulled his phone out of his pocket to call Mike, he walked gingerly around the house, not wanting to disturb any evidence. Not that he expected to find any.
“Rubio.”
“Mike, it’s Brad. I’m at Joy’s and she’s had a rough break-in. The whole place has been turned upside down. How much you want to bet it’s our guy?”
“Where’s Joy now?”
Brad checked his watch. “In the air. She’s due to land at Sea Tac in two hours.”
“I want you to get out of her place. Find whatever you can in the next ten minutes, and then get the hell out, Brad. Come back to the office. If this is our sleeper, we’re going to need a team to go in and get him. No cowboy stuff, man.”
Brad couldn’t stop the grunt of laughter. Cowboy stuff was what they used to say if someone on their SEAL team was trying to be a hero. A team was a cohesive unit, no heroes allowed.
“Got it.”
“I mean it, Brad. If you don’t call me back in fifteen and tell me you’re on the road, I’m going to write your ass up. You’ll help her more by keeping her out of there and safe at your place for now.”
“You’re right.” He disconnected then went into the living room and stopped at the table where Joy kept her house phone and a notepad. Several pages had been torn off and left crumpled next to the phone or on the floor. That wasn’t Joy; she was a neat freak. He looked at the pad but didn’t see any indentations. Not wanting to waste time, he scooped up all the notes and shoved them in his pockets, along with the pad. The local LEAs didn’t need to catch wind of anything Joy was looking up. “Make it quick, folks. We’re out of here in five minutes.”
* * *
HELEN’S WORDS ECHOED in Joy’s ears as she drove south on Highway 5 out of Sea Tac. She had the radio on full blast, trying to burn off some stress by singing along to Kelly Clarkson, Shania Twain and Miranda Lambert on the local country station.
Her phone rang and she saw on her dashboard’s Bluetooth that it was Brad. She turned down Shania’s “You’re Still the One,” and greeted him.
“Hey, stranger.”
“Joy, where are you?”
“Heading home. I’ll be there in about ninety minutes.”
“Turn around.”
“What?” She saw the exit sign for the Kingston Ferry. “I’m too close to home, Brad.”
“Where exactly, Joy?”
“I just passed the exit for the Kingston Ferry. Why?”
“Listen to me, Joy. Go to my house.”
“Oh, I get it. You miss me that much?”
“No, no. I mean, yes, of course I do. But I’m not at home. You’re in danger if you go to your place. I just left and I’m on my way back to Seattle. I was at your place Joy, and...it’s been ransacked.”
“What?” No. Not now. Not when she was more in need than ever of her quiet respite from the world.
“Look, Joy, I don’t want to have a long conversation about this on the phone. Just go to my place and let yourself in. I’ll be there in a little over an hour. There’ll be a security detail around my house.”
“But—”
“You remember where the key is, right?”
“Yes, but I have some things to tell you, Brad.”
“We’ll compare notes when we meet up. Turn. Around. Now.”
“I am, I am.”
“Talk to you there.” Brad ended the connection.
She put her blinker on for the next exit and tried to remember the way to Brad’s without her GPS. It kept her from getting upset over his harsh tone, even if he had good reason to be worried.
* * *
“I CAN’T BELIEVE you actually listened to me.” Mike stood at his desk, the notes Brad had collected in a neat pile. “I’ll have an agent look at these and see if there’s anything we can get out of ’em.”
“You heard the techies found two bugs, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but they could’ve been put th
ere by the same person who did the break-in, to see when she got home. It doesn’t mean anyone heard your earlier conversations.”
Chills went down Brad’s spine, followed by a shot of adrenaline that made his hands shake. Mike looked him over, not missing any of his tells.
“Thanks for doing what I asked, Brad. You’re too close to this whole situation. We have to take Hasan’s agent down right or he’s going to slither out of our hands.”
“I know. Do you think he’s smuggled in more SAMs?”
Mike shrugged. “I have no idea. If he’s as twisted as I suspect he is, anything’s possible. He may have lured the cell members you caught to the Northwest just so he could play cat-and-mouse with them.”
“That’s pure evil.”
“It is, and not your concern. Take Farid back to your place, and keep him and Joy there until we get the last suspect in custody.”
“Will do.” He moved to grab the door handle.
“Brad?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s okay to care this much for someone, you know. Healthy, in fact.”
“Go to hell, man.”
Mike’s laughter chased him out of the office.
* * *
“I’M SORRY YOU have to babysit me, Brad.” Farid sat in the passenger seat of Brad’s minivan as they drove through downtown Seattle.
“No problem. Anyway, it’s your lucky day. You’ll get to see Joy. She’ll be waiting for us.”
He felt a burning anxiety to get home. He trusted Joy to be there; it wasn’t that. He just needed to hold her and see for himself that she was in one piece. Hearing her voice on the phone had helped calm his nerves earlier, but the effect had worn off. After walking into her place and seeing that some rat bastard had torn the place apart.
“Your boss, Mike, he said there’s enough to put Hasan’s puppets away for a long while.”
“Yes, hopefully. We still have to capture this last one. But it’s not as straight a shot to the witness stand as we might think.”
“So I’ve learned from watching the American television.”
Brad eased them onto the highway. Good. Only thirteen more minutes, and they’d be at his place. Why was the dump truck in front of him so slow?