by Cat Connor
Lee shook his head. “I don’t know. But it looks like our old pals have reunited for something.”
“This has to be related.”
“That’s what I thought.”
I picked up my phone and scrolled through to find Seamus’s contact details. I had an email address. I emailed him, not mentioning that Lee saw him and asked if he knew of any terror groups in Croatia, Slovakia or the Czech Republic.
Twenty minutes later, my phone chimed. Incoming email.
“It’s from Seamus and he’s just implied he is still in the UK. He obviously doesn’t want anyone, us, knowing he’s here.” I thought for a moment. “I want surveillance. If he’s not talking, there’s a reason. My gut says it’s related.”
Lee grinned. “Your preferred approach?”
“What do ya bet Kennedy is staying in the same house as last time?”
“Worth a look.”
“You and me. You up for it?” I asked.
“I’m fine. It’s you we’re all worried about.”
I shrugged and it didn’t kill me.
“I’ll be okay.” I crossed my fingers. “I’m walking and talking. It’s all good.”
“Mitch and Kurt are not going to like this …”
“You scared?” A smile settled on my lips. Lee scared? Have I ever seen that? Nope.
“Fucking terrified, Chicky. Kurt I can handle but Mitch, I’m not so sure.”
Interesting and amusing.
“If we’re going to do this, let’s do it now.” Before Kurt or Mitch can put an end to it. It needed doing and I wanted to do it.
I knew my idea wasn’t brilliant. I wasn’t on form and yet I was keen to partake in a little bit of breaking and entering to try to find out why Seamus was in town. Ask? Yeah, no, not him. Stonewalls and cinder blocks talk more than Seamus Kennedy. Something was up and I was pretty sure it had to do with the current climate in D.C.
An hour later Lee parked down the road from the house we knew Kennedy had stayed in the last time he was in town.
I made my way up the path and bashed on the door. No answer. Excellent. If anyone had answered, I was ready to spin a story depending on who it was. If it were one of the quasi-UN, I’d demand information.
I waited a few minutes before bashing again, just in case someone was there but otherwise occupied.
Nothing.
Waiting a sensible few seconds longer, I wondered if there was an alarm system: no outward advertising if there were. I glanced about not wanting anyone to creep up behind me as I stepped into the second part of the plan. From my pocket, I pulled a small leather case and took two thin pieces of metal.
I tumbled the lock and let myself in. No alarm and no one home. I checked the entire house and wondered how often he did a bug sweep. The house was tidy and clean. Nothing left lying around. Disappointing but not surprising. I’d danced with Kennedy before and knew where to look. We bought some of our more interesting pieces of furniture from the same specialist cabinet maker. In the living room was a solid old hutch dresser. I recognized it as the piece I wanted a look at by the workmanship.
The front cabinet opened with ease. I kneeled down and looked inside. Empty. Using the tips of the fingers of my right hand I carefully pressed the far right side of the back wall. It popped open about half an inch; hooking my fingers behind the secret door I pulled it fully open. Inside I found mail. I looked through some letters which confirmed he was living in the house. Mostly they were in English but some were in an odd mix of English and what was possibly a Slavonic language. Not Russian. I guessed at Czech because that fitted with some of what was going on. They seemed to be communications from an employer, and that was about all I could glean. For me, that smacked of a reason for him to be here. There was nothing in the letters that looked like Rob or Robinson that I could find.
My eyes drifted to the signature at the bottom of the page. Signed not printed. I snapped a photo of the signature. It was difficult to make out but looked like a name I’d heard recently: Dobrovolný.
A small white box bearing an apple logo sat on the shelf below the letters. I took it out for closer inspection. It once housed an iPhone. This was a good find. Inside the box I found a cardboard wallet that used to house a micro SIM card. The barcode on the back had the phone number printed underneath it. I added the number to my phone and returned everything to its rightful place then closed the cabinet. Using the dresser as support I stood with care. A few deep breaths and I continued on my mission.
Keen on placing GPS devices in the clothing in his closet I walked into Kennedy’s bedroom. Knowing Lee was outside waiting in the car didn’t help settle my nerves any. The longer I was in the house, the more dangerous my position. A quick search of the bedroom highlighted nothing of interest
Footsteps. The very last thing I wanted to hear.
I looked around the bedroom. They got closer. I ducked into the closet and took the opportunity to force the tiny tracking devices into the seams of jackets as I moved to the far end behind several long overcoats.
Standing still, barely breathing at the very end of the closest, pleased that I’d managed to get the trackers into as many jackets as possible. My fingers closed around the grip of my gun. I wasn’t going to shoot Seamus. Was I? That simple action slowed my heart rate from pound to thump. I glanced at the oximeter on my wrist. Oxygen was okay, heart rate up. No problem.
The feet stopped. Then moved on, fading. I took a breath. They came back. I held it. My eyes wanted to close. If I couldn’t see, then no one could see me.
The door opened. Light filtered through the clothes but didn’t quite reach me.
A hand took a jacket. The door shut.
I didn’t dare breath. Footsteps moved away. I took a breath.
Without warning, both doors swung open. A hand pulled a cord in the middle of the closet. Light flooded every nook and cranny.
Frozen.
Unblinking.
Hands rummaged on the shelf above me.
Mutterings followed more rummaging. Little puffs of dust floated in the light.
The bulb flickered. A hand pulled the cord. It clicked. A grayish semi-darkness blanketed the closet.
The doors shut. I heard movement outside the doors.
My nose tickled and eyes watered, and I could still hear him moving about the bedroom. The urge to sneeze grew exponentially. I willed him to leave. Movement came close to the closet again.
Just leave.
If I sneezed, it’d kill my ribs. A little voice inside my head told me to lick the roof of my mouth. The urge vanished.
The footsteps walked away. A heavier door opened and closed. The front door maybe.
I waited.
Without warning I sneezed.
“Oh crap!”
My left-hand pressed on my side trying to stop the pain. I couldn’t breathe for a minute. My right-hand stayed closed around my gun. I waited. No running footsteps. No sound of movement. I waited a full two minutes. Not because I wanted to but because I couldn’t move.
Cautiously I opened the closet door and peered into the bedroom. No one.
I sneezed again and let loose an involuntary yelp. Shit it hurt.
I crept from my hiding place, keeping close to the walls as I left the bedroom and made my way to the front door. I looked out a front window and saw Seamus.
Crap.
He stood at the end of his path talking on his cell phone.
I called Lee’s cell phone. “He’s at the end of the path. I’ll go out the back. Meet me.”
“I’m coming.”
I moved quickly and quietly to the backdoor. It didn’t open. I took my lock picks from my pocket and worked on the lock, listening carefully for sounds behind me. The lock tumbled. I could almost breathe again. I opened the door and closed it gently behind me. Standing in a backyard with high wooden fences and no place to take cover wasn’t going to work. A tree caught my attention. The display on my wrist said my oxygen levels were fal
ling. Not much but I bet it was enough for Kurt to want to investigate. Which meant he’d tell Mitch.
I looked at the tree and back at the door. It would hurt. Climbing would really hurt. I climbed up the trunk of the tree, not wanting to stretch too far. Slowly and with care, I climbed up until I was level with the high fence that bordered the properties. A bird tweeted in annoyance as I nudged its nest. I apologized as I straddled the branch containing the nest and then eased over another branch. Faced with zero choice, I dropped down into the adjacent yard. Landing heavily, I couldn’t stand up right away. One glance at the pulse oximeter told me things were not good. It took a minute before I could catch my breath, straighten up, and move on. Hugging my side helped a bit. I kept my left arm wrapped around my ribs.
Another prayer to the great unknown: please don’t have a dog.
I stayed close to the fence and walked as quickly as I could to the back of the property. Faced with more fences I almost gave up. Using the corner where the two fences met I scaled a six foot fence and semi-dropped, more fell, into the yard behind. The fall forced air out of my lungs. Breathing hurt. A lot. I hugged my ribs.
Someone yelled from a window as I half-tripped over a kid’s toy while trying to run down a driveway. I made it to the sidewalk. In the distance, I saw Lee’s car. I kept walking until he was level with me. I scooted around the car; the door popped open and I gingerly angled in.
“Okay?” he asked.
“No.”
Adrenaline pumped through my muscles. Pain rampaged. I looked at my wrist. Heart rate was through the roof, oxygen levels down.
“Chicky, you never say no.”
“I need Kurt.” It hurt more than ever to breathe. I hoped he’d seen my oxygen level fall and wasn’t far away. GPS is a wonderful thing, not only did our phones send GPS data but our cars did too.
“We’re on our way.” He flipped a switch on the dash. Blue and red lights flashed. “Did you bug him?”
“Yep.” I tried to get more comfortable and failed. “I attached bugs to every jacket I could.”
Slow, shallow breaths were all I could manage. “He took one while I was trapped in his closet.”
Lee glanced at me. “Good job. Try to relax, it’ll be easier to breathe.”
A car caught my eye. Danni Lane was driving it. My brain whirred.
“I think …” Suddenly it hurt a lot to talk. I paused for a moment and tried again. “Danni, one of the women …” Shallow breaths. My eyes flicked to the oximeter on my wrist. My oxygen level was at ninety-five per cent and falling. Not ideal. “She was driving the Ford Focus that just went by.”
A little yellow duck quacked as it wandered in circles.
I pulled out my phone and noted the license plate. Weird. What was she doing out here? I opened the app that would monitor the bugs I’d planted in Kennedy’s clothing. The one he’d taken was already collecting information. I hoped we’d get enough to tell us what was going on and what Kennedy had to do with it.
Getting air was hard work. Mitch filled my mind. I fucked up, Mitch.
“Ellie? Okay?”
“No. Lee … Inova, please.”
His finger pressed a button. Our siren wailed. He picked up the handset for the car radio.
“Break-Break … SAA Lee Davenport, 4509. Request escort. Under lights and siren. Agent seeking urgent medical help. Over.”
The radio crackled. I closed my eyes. Just for a minute. Just to regain some control.
The next thing I heard was Kurt’s voice over the radio.
“I’m right behind you. Pull over.”
“Roger that.”
My door opened, hands caught me before I fell. And the dark wafted in.
Thirty-One
Pull The Plug
“You’ve done plenty of crazy things, Conway, but climbing a fucking tree and scaling fences, really?” Kurt was not happy. He wasn’t known to curse. “At what point did you think ‘this is going to end badly’?”
I blinked. It was bright. I was lying down looking up at Kurt. Two seconds later, I knew I was in the emergency room for the second time this week.
“When Seamus was standing on the path,” I said. My voice felt strained but I was breathing. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Partially collapsed lung.”
That sounded bad. I could feel nasal prongs in my nose. Oxygen.
“Am I fixed? I’ve got work to do.”
“This is medicine, not magic.” His voice grated in an unusual way. “Your lung is recovering. Deep breaths, rest, and oxygen will help.”
“Okay. Do I have a chest tube?”
“No, it’s a partial collapse. It will heal by itself.”
“Okay.”
“Noticed that you can breathe a bit better now?”
“Yes.” My throat was scratchy.
“Slow, steady, deep breaths. You’ve been out for over an hour.” He adjusted the bed so I was semi-sitting.
“Where’d I go? Did I have fun?”
Right then I saw a flash of actual anger in his eyes.
“You know what? I can’t … Mitch can do this.”
And he walked away. I don’t ever remember Kurt walking away from me before. It did occur to me that I’d never done anything quite this stupid before. Then I saw Mitch. He approached the bed. No smile. No frown. I couldn’t read his expression. It wasn’t something I’d seen before.
“Are you all right?” His voice was low, deliberate and tinged with anger and disappointment.
That was the look.
“Yes.”
“What the hell were you thinking? Were you thinking?” He exhibited great control. I would’ve preferred him to raise his voice, even yell at me, anything that didn’t hold so much disappointment and controlled anger.
“I was doing my job.”
His head shook slightly. “Don’t. Don’t pull that. You need to take better care of yourself. You knowingly put yourself at risk.”
I wanted to repeat that I was doing my job. I put myself at risk every day. But that wouldn’t help, nor was it what he wanted or needed to hear. Instead, I sucked it up and accepted I did a stupid thing.
I mustered as much contrition as I possibly could. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for?”
He wasn’t going to let me off without an explanation. Damn.
“For not taking better care, for acting without regard to my health and wellbeing. For being fucking stupid. But mostly, mostly, for worrying you.”
“I need to understand why you thought you could do what you did. Why do it? Why not let Lee?” Mitch leaned against the wall. “What was wrong with him that he let you?”
I held up my hand. “Stop. This is not about Lee. He had no choice. I am his SSA. It was my decision not his. I did it knowingly. My responsibility, Mitch.”
“So explain it to me. Talk to me.”
“How angry are you?”
“Very. I need to hear your explanation.”
“It won’t make a difference … the outcome doesn’t change, the bad decision still stands.”
“For me. I need to make sense of this.” A small smile. “Yes, it is all about me.”
“Okay.” I took some slow, steady breaths. “I was only going into the house to plant some bugs. In and out. No problem.” More slow deep breaths. “We all have our strengths. I’m good at picking locks. I’m smaller than the guys and can hide easier. Lee is kinda like a battering ram. Not so subtle at times. It was a subtle situation.” More breaths. “When Kennedy arrived home, I hid in his closet. It was so close. Close but I was okay. He would’ve sprung Lee within seconds. I did the job.” Slow breaths. “But Kennedy didn’t leave right away and I couldn’t use the front door, it was too dangerous to stay in case he came back in.”
“So up until it all went pear-shaped, everything was fine?”
“Yeah, not really. He stirred up dust while I was in the closest … that was the beginning of the end really. Jeez, sneezing hurt.”
“Did you plant the bugs?”
I smiled. “Of course.”
Mitch smiled.
“Next time … can there not be a next time, please?”
I shook my head. “I want to promise I won’t do anything that stupid again but I can’t make a promise I may not be able to keep.” I looked at him. His eyes never left mine. “But, I will promise to always talk to you.”
“If you could manage that before an act of sheer stupidity …”
“I can try.”
He pushed himself off the wall and sat on the bed.
“You scared me.”
“I know. It wasn’t my intention. I didn’t think—”
“That was obvious.” Mitch’s expression softened. “I’ve only just found you and I’m not ready to lose you. Take better care.” He whispered, “I’m not leaving you again, not until you’re well.”
Thirty-Two
Breaking The Law
Kurt kept me in hospital for three hours. Three hours lying on my good side while my lung re-inflated, breathing as deeply as I could. I was lucky there was no chest tube, I knew that. A chest tube would really slow me down. I sent Lee and Sam to find Danni. They reported that she was not at the hotel. My phone app showed her at Fair Oaks Mall. They searched the mall. Nothing. No Danni. Getting annoyed over losing my surveillance team wasn’t going to help anyone.
Once I was allowed up, Mitch and I headed for the field office with Kurt. Lee and Sam were on their way to the hotel the women were staying in to see if Danni was back there. I wanted to see Caine and Sandra, and see what came back from the tag number of the car I was still sure I saw Danni Lane driving.
I’d gone from having little yellow ducks in a neat little row to random quackers all over the show.
Sandra ran the registration tag and we hung around for the results. Turned out the car was registered to Danni Lane, a thirty-year-old female with an Oakton Virginia address. Unmarried. Gainfully employed at the Hard Rock Café on 10th Street as a barista. None of which made much sense. The photo on her driver’s license was the same Danni Lane. How could she be traveling on a New Zealand passport and, according to ICE, have arrived in the USA with her traveling companions from Canada two weeks ago and living in Oakton, Virginia? I thought about what I’d learned from the Secret Service. Caroline Clancy visited the White House. She was a resident of Virginia. Caroline Clancy and Caro Clancy were the same person. They were both Danni Lane.