[The Exit 01.0] Next Exit, Three Miles

by CW Browning

  “Acting funny how?”

  “Jumpy. Like he was waiting for something.” Frankie shrugged. “I thought maybe he had started using, but it wasn't that kind of jumpy. Anyway, he cleared out and went down to South Jersey to hide out at his sisters.”

  “Hide from you?”

  “Nah.” Frankie shook his head. “He knew we were watching him. He knew we knew where he was going. He was hiding from someone else.”

  “The person who put Angelo in the river?” Damon asked.

  Frankie shrugged.

  “That's what I figured,” he said. “So I had my boys do a little snooping into this Angelo.”

  Frankie stopped and Damon raised an eyebrow.

  “And?” he prompted.

  Frankie sighed.

  “I don't know why I'm telling you this,” he muttered.

  “Because I'm holding a gun to your head and you don't have much of a choice,” Damon answered calmly.

  Frankie looked up.

  “You know, you have a way about you,” he told him. “You ever find yourself at a loose end, you come see me.”

  “I appreciate the offer,” Damon said, his lips twitching. “Now tell me about Angelo.”

  “Angelo ran guns, among other things, for Bobby Reyes. Bobby runs all the guns on the east coast,” Frankie said. “We came to an agreement a long time ago. We respect each others exclusive entrepreneurial endeavors. In twenty years, I've never known Bobby to break that agreement. So I went to him. I asked him about Angelo.”

  “Let me guess.” Damon shifted slightly. “Bobby had no idea what Angelo was doing. It had nothing to do with him.”

  “Not only that, but Bobby was looking for Angelo himself when he floated up because a specialized shipment had gone missing.” Frankie waved his hand vaguely. “That's what Bobby called it. A “specialized” shipment. He was pretty sure Angelo had taken it and sold it outside Bobby's network, and that made Bobby nervous. And now, here you are, with a “specialized” interest.”

  “Who do you think Angelo sold those goods to?” Damon asked softly.

  Frankie was silent for a minute. Then he looked at Damon.

  “You find the person who whacked Angelo and Martin and you'll find who bought that shipment,” he told him. “And I'll tell you this much. It's not a member of any Family in this country.”

  Alina didn't speak until they were back in the Jeep and pulling away. Damon had exited the library and motioned for them to leave. Quickly. Alina had glanced back from the garden wall to see Frankie Solitto standing at the window, with his drink in his hand, watching them. She got the impression that he was giving them a head start, and that impression was confirmed about five minutes later when she and Damon heard men yelling instructions and a dozen lights lit up the woods behind them. They made it to the Jeep quickly and without incident, and Damon pulled into the road and turned around to head back down the mountainside. He switched on the headlights about a mile down the road, once they were out of sight of the compound.

  “Find out anything useful?” Alina finally asked. Damon nodded.

  “He didn't kill Sladecki,” he said.

  “We didn't think he had,” Alina retorted. “Does he know who did?”

  “He thinks he does,” Damon said. “And I'm pretty sure that his meeting with the Philly Family is to discuss the situation.”

  Alina looked at him sharply.

  “How much have they guessed?” she asked.

  “Oh, they've pretty much worked it all out,” Damon answered. “The only thing they don't have is a name.”

  “Do you think they'll be a problem?” Alina asked after a moment. Damon glanced at her.

  “Not if you move quickly,” he replied. “Angelo passed on a specialized shipment to Johann. Frankie said Bobby Reyes, the dealer he stole it from, became aware of it a few days before Angelo surfaced in the river.”

  “So Johann's had it for at least a week now.” Alina's mind was working quickly. “And he took out his money launderer. That means the money is in place.”

  “It's a little like following bread crumbs, isn't it?” Damon asked idly, heading back toward 95.

  Alina stared unseeingly out of the window.

  “Except the breadcrumbs are running out,” she murmured. “I don't understand something.”

  “What?”

  “This is out of character for Johann,” Alina answered after a short silence. “He's never systematically cleaned up after himself like this.”

  Damon shot her a look in the darkness.

  “He's never worked on American soil,” he pointed out.

  Alina shrugged slightly and fell silent. Something just didn't feel right about all of this, but Hawk was right. She had to move quickly now. She had to find Johann before he used his specialized shipment, and now she had to find him before the Family found him first.

  “Where are you on Johann?” Damon asked, pulling onto 95 and heading south.

  Alina looked at him.

  “I'm making progress,” she said guardedly.

  Damon glanced at her.

  “How about you tell me about the progress and we see if I can add anything or help?” he suggested. “I know the concept of working as a team is foreign to both of us, but I'm pretty sure this is how it works.”

  Alina was quiet for a moment, and then she nodded.

  “You had better come in when we get back. It might be a long night,” Alina finally said in resignation.

  Damon's eyebrows shot into his forehead and his lips curled into a grin.

  “I think I'm beginning to see the advantages of partners,” he drawled.

  Alina laughed.

  “I meant so that you can see where I am with Johann,” she exclaimed.

  Damon glanced at her.

  “Of course you did,” he murmured.

  Chapter Six

  Alina switched on the light in the kitchen and dropped her jacket on one of the bar stools. Damon followed her, his eyes going to the gun in her back.

  “Coffee?” Alina asked, heading for the espresso maker.

  “Please.” Damon perched on one of the stools. He glanced at the clock. “We made good time,” he remarked. Alina nodded.

  “We did,” she agreed. It was a little past one in the morning.

  Damon watched as she pulled out two mugs and filled the hopper of the machine with espresso beans. A feeling of contentment washed over him, taking Damon by surprise. He suddenly realized that he was exactly where he wanted to be, for perhaps the first time in years. There was a feeling of closeness in the room, and it felt good. It felt as close to home as anything he had felt in a long, long time. Alina pushed a button and the grinder came alive, breaking the silence and jarring Damon out of his thoughts.

  “What's the story with Angela?” he asked, shifting on his stool.

  Alina glanced over her shoulder.

  “Angela?” she repeated. Damon grinned.

  “Yes. Why is she the only one who never had to carry a gun at work?” he asked.

  Alina grinned.

  “Angela has always just been Angela. She's a pure Jersey Girl, through and through,” she told him. Alina pulled the mug out from under the spout and handed it to Damon. She picked up the other mug and turned back to the coffee maker. “She may speak flippantly about her job, but she is an assistant Vice President with the bank and worked hard to get there. Angela is our corporate vine. She won't stop until she reaches the top of the wall.”

  “She works in the anti-money laundering department?” Damon asked. “That's a little ironic.”

  “Quite,” she agreed. “I'm sure Stephanie's already pulled all the information she could out of her.”

  “I don't see how she fits in with the two of you.” Damon sipped his coffee. “You and Stephanie are similar.”

  “There's more to her than you think.” Alina removed her mug and sipped it. “Mmmm.”

  Damon grinned. He had felt the same way when he had taken his first sip of co
ffee. They were silent for a moment, each enjoying their espresso. Finally, Alina moved toward the island.

  “Well, are you ready?” she asked.

  Damon nodded and watched as she reached up and pulled down a stainless steel pot and placed it on the island. He let out an appreciative whistle as the island moved silently to the side.

  “Well done,” he murmured, following her down the stairs with his mug in hand. When they reached the bottom of the steps, Alina pressed a button and the opening above them closed.

  Damon slowly looked around, taking in the flat screen monitors and servers that lined the room. The steady hum from the machines was occasionally interrupted when a fan kicked on to cool one of the servers, and the room smelled like wiring and plastic. Monitors flicked through streaming images ranging from pictures, to satellite images, to real-time streaming video of the house and the grounds. In between the monitors were white boards of varying sizes, some holding newspaper clippings, others with photos, and others with notes jotted down.

  “Welcome to my command center,” Alina said, moving into the room.

  It really was a command center, and he had completely failed to find it on the night he had come to investigate. He knew it had to be somewhere, and here it was.

  “Impressive.” Damon honed in on the monitor that was scanning through thousands of pictures. “Who are you looking for?”

  Alina followed his look and smiled.

  “One of Johann's associates,” she answered. She sat in front of a laptop and motioned for him to look at the bigger plasma at the end of the room. “You wanted to know where I was on Johann.”

  Alina opened a file on the laptop and a picture appeared on the plasma screen. A tall man with dark skin was walking through gates in an airport. He had a carry-on bag over his shoulder and his head was down. Dressed in gray linen pants and a navy loose-fitting shirt, he looked like just another tired traveler.

  “Johann?”

  Damon moved closed to the plasma screen. He had never seen a picture of the infamous terrorist. Only a handful of people in the world knew what he even looked like. And Viper had managed to get him on camera.

  “This was him entering the country at Philadelphia International,” Alina said. “He came in about six weeks ago.”

  “How did you get this?” Damon looked at her.

  “I hacked into the airport surveillance server,” she answered. “It helped that I knew who I was looking for.”

  “He came in alone?” Damon asked, turning his attention back to the picture on the screen. He could only see part of his face.

  “Yes.”

  Alina clicked on another file and another picture joined the first one. This one was taken outside the airport as Johann was getting into a cab. He was looking toward the camera and Damon got his first good look at him. His face was lean and dark, and his eyes were very deep set. His hair was short and there was no trace of shadow on his face. He was clean-shaven and westernized.

  “He arrived alone and didn't meet anyone at the airport. He left the country again a week later,” Alina said, clicking again. Another picture popped up. This time he was dressed in jeans and a black windbreaker. He had a laptop bag over his shoulder. “Here he is heading into Canada. Toronto was the most likely destination.” Another picture joined the other three. “Three days later, he came back into the country.”

  “All on the same visa?” Damon asked.

  “No.” Alina swung around and sipped her coffee, staring at the picture broodingly. “Philadelphia was on the visa that alerted DC, but he went in and out of Canada on a US passport. He wasn't particularly concerned with getting into the States undetected, but he sure didn't want to be caught going in and out of Canada. And he succeeded. No one knows that he ever left the country.”

  “Except you,” Damon pointed out.

  Alina smiled.

  “Well, that's my job,” she pointed out. “In any case, he went to Canada twice in a week and a half, and then he stopped traveling.”

  “How do you know?” Damon perched on the edge of the counter next to her chair.

  “I'm watching all the most likely entry points,” Alina told him. “I'm also scanning the government databases and surveillance satellites, as well as watching train stations, bus stations, local airports, etc. He hasn't left the country. In fact, I don't think he's left the tri-state area.”

  “He did everything he needed to do within two weeks of getting here.” Damon sipped his coffee. “You think he brought an associate back from Canada?” He asked, his eyes going back to the database scanning faces.

  “I think he brought someone back.” Alina finished her coffee and set the mug down. “Here's what I learned two years ago.” She sat back in her chair and looked up him. “Johann built his business on a very limited number of associates, and all those associates are loyal. His security personnel is made up of family. His couriers are extended family. This is not a man who works with other groups and he is extremely cautious.”

  “But he works with Mossavid, no?” Damon asked.

  Alina shook her head.

  “He is Mossavid,” she replied. “Which is something no one in DC wants to accept. They think Mossavid is this big terrorist organization out of Syria with ties to Al Queda and agents all over Europe. In reality, it is a small cell of specialized terrorists, and it's led by him.” Alina nodded to the plasma screen. “When I was hired to take him out two years ago, I was told that he was one of the leading terrorists in the organization. When I tracked him, I found out that he was the leading terrorist, but of a small cell made up entirely with family.”

  “He doesn't work for anyone,” Damon stated. He was staring at the plasma. “So he has complete autonomy.”

  “Exactly.” Alina turned to the laptop again and pulled up another file. She didn't put it on the plasma, but motioned for Damon to look at it on the laptop screen. “This is an excerpt of a memo sent from the White House, guaranteeing funding.” Damon bent over her shoulder to read the document on the screen. “Washington guarantees funding for the war on terror and, specifically, on Mossavid.”

  “Well, that explains why they want to keep the impression that Mossavid is a larger organization than it is,” Damon murmured. Alina nodded, trying to ignore the closeness of his cheek to hers. She could smell his aftershave and feel the heat from his body, and a rush of answering warmth went through her. Her pulse quickened. “It also makes more sense now why they want to make sure that there are no mistakes this time. That's a lot of funding...and no results yet,” Damon added.

  Alina nodded, not trusting herself to speak just yet. Damon turned his head to look at her, his eyes inches from hers. Alina felt another shock of awareness shoot through her as she met his dark blue eyes and her chest tightened. They stared at each other for a second, then his eyes dropped to her lips. Tension sprang up between them, sudden and powerful, and Alina caught her breath as it felt like her blood was hammering in her head. When Damon lifted his eyes again to hers, they had grown darker. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, and then Alina managed to clear her throat.

  Damon straightened up slowly with a slight smile and Alina let out a long breath. He grinned, his eyes still dark. He moved back to his perch on the counter and watched as Alina turned her attention back to the laptop hastily. The sudden, almost blinding, surge of desire hadn't taken him much by surprise. He had always felt something for Alina, starting way back when they had first met in boot camp, but he had a suspicion that she had just been caught completely off-guard. Damon took a few deep, silent breaths. He had to wait for her to work out this new wrinkle in her own time. He just hoped she worked it out fast.

  “What doesn't make sense to me is why he would be killing off his network,” Alina finally spoke, going back to Johann. Her voice sounded normal and her hands were almost steady when she swung around to look at Damon again. Her eyes met his again, but this time she was back to business. “It's not like him. It tak
es time to build a network. He had to have started this one months before he even got here, which is why I am pretty sure he had an associate over here already. He has traditionally left his networks in place.”

  “Maybe he doesn't anticipate needing them again,” Damon suggested, looking back to the pictures of Johann. Alina followed his gaze.

  “You think it could be a suicide mission?” she asked. Damon shrugged. Alina was thoughtful for a moment, but then she shook her head. “Mossavid has never shown a propensity for suicide bombings before,” she finally decided. “But something must have him spooked. The only reason I can think for him getting rid of them so systematically is that he thinks they are a threat with information.”

  “And we don't know where he is now.” Damon looked back at Alina. “Any ideas?”

  “I know he's in the tri-state area,” she answered. “The last location I have for him is in Center City, five days ago. I have nothing since.”

  “If he's getting ready to do whatever it is that he's planning...” Damon left the sentence hanging.

  They both knew the end. If Johann was preparing for the attack on Three Mile Island and the preparations were in the final stage, he wouldn't surface again until he launched the attack. Alina looked back to the monitor that was scanning faces. She had to find the associate. That was her best path to Johann.

  “I'll find him before then,” Alina said softly.

  Damon looked down at her. She didn't look determined. She just looked confident. He had no doubt that she would find Johann.

  The question was whether or not he could protect her while she did.

  Alina came awake slowly, the fluttering of wings pulling her from the depths of unconsciousness. Sunlight was pouring through the skylight in her bedroom when she opened her eyes, and shiny black eyes watched her from the perch high in the corner of the bedroom. Raven shifted his weight and bobbed his head in greeting as Alina smiled. She stretched slowly, yawning widely, and wiggled her toes under the warm and fluffy down comforter. The position of the sun told her that it was later in the day than she normally woke, and she hovered in that pleasant state between dreaming and full wakefulness. It had been after three when Damon had left and she came up to bed. It had been another hour before she finally fell asleep. She had tossed and turned, remembering the sudden and powerful desire that she had felt in the command center. Alina reflected ruefully now, in the bright light of day, that it was a good thing that Hawk had left when he had. If he had been within a mile of her last night when she had been tossing and turning, she would have ripped his clothes off quite happily.