Stuart powered up the X-ray camera. The image on the screen changed. We were no longer looking at the outside of a lockbox. Seen through the walls of the case in white against a black background was the image of a weapon and twenty-four large-bore shells.
“What is that?” Wallace asked. “It’s not an assault weapon. It looks more like a launcher of some sort.”
“It’s a launcher,” I said. “Definitely.”
Wallace searched the picture frame carefully. “Do you see anything beside the weapon and shells?”
“Negative,” I replied. “That seems to be all.”
“All right. Get a closer look at the locks. Make sure they’re not booby-trapped.”
Stuart stood the box on its back and adjusted the X-ray camera, examining the areas around the locks and the seals. “There’s nothing there,” he reported. “Can we pop it?”
“Affirmative,” Wallace said. “Get it opened quickly.”
I had my picks ready. The locking mechanisms were standard luggage locks, and I had both of them open in less than thirty seconds. “Here we go.” I opened the box while Stuart switched the camera back to standard video.
“So it is a grenade launcher,” Wallace said, looking at the screen in the command center.
“I recognize it,” I said. “It’s an oldie, a Milkor MGL M-32 6-shot. It’s African made, I think. Saw plenty of these in the Middle East.”
“Forget the delivery system,” Wallace said in a calm voice. “Let’s identify what’s in the shells?”
Stuart picked up one of the shells with his glove-clad hand and examined it. “Weird,” he commented. “It’s one of ours.”
“Ours?” Wallace said, questioning what he’d heard. “Are you sure?”
Stuart adjusted the magnification on his camera and transmitted a high-dynamic-range photo of the shell. “Am I wrong?”
“No. You’re not wrong,” Wallace said in a worried voice. “It looks like a binary-stage shell, and that can’t be good. We’re checking the markings now. Go back and X-ray the shell. See if I’m right.”
I glanced at Stuart with a worried expression as he reset the camera. Binary-stage weapons were used to provide safe use and storage of extremely dangerous munitions. The shells were designed to keep the two hazardous substances separated. The two components would only be combined at the point of delivery. In theory if the munitions were compromised prior to being discharged, the two individual components were far less dangerous than the combined substance.
“You’re right,” Stuart said as he X-rayed the shell. “They’re binary all right.” He waited a moment for Wallace to acknowledge his findings. “Are you getting the transmission? I said—”
“You’re right.” Wallace sighed. “They’re US military munitions—ferret rounds used to penetrate glass and wood. It’s pretty bad,” he said in a deflated tone. “Those shells contain sarin.”
Chapter 56
They moved as one, making their way the short distance to the bedroom half-naked as they fell onto the bed together. Ari slipped his hands under Malaina’s dress and slipped off her panties. She moaned as the contours of their bodies came together like pieces of a puzzle. His lips slid along her neck, his kisses becoming more passionate as he made his way toward her mouth. They worked in unison, two forces working as one building feverishly to a climax. He felt his heart pounding as he rolled off her, spent and physically exhausted. He smiled and turned his head only to see that he was lying next to a corpse. Anthony Silvestri was next to him, his skin pale, and his eye sockets empty and black.
Ari awoke in a cold sweat. Two phones lay atop his end table. One was buzzing. He watched as another of Malaina’s calls went unanswered and then did what he knew he must. He removed the battery and broke the phone by smashing it against the metal bed frame. He had already betrayed his country three times: once when he’d killed Linuzzi, once when he’d killed Silvestri, and a third time when he began a relationship with Malaina Silvestri. Any one of those activities might have compromised his real assignment. It was one thing to use her to get to her father, but it was his actions afterward that tore at him. Why? he wondered. Why did I abandon my discipline and training? Calling her after killing her father had been a critical mistake. Accompanying her to the funeral was a thousand times worse. Being out in view of all those people. What was I thinking?
He was feeling queasy and restless when the second phone buzzed. A text message stated one word: Now!
Chapter 57
Carolyn Abate was back in her own element, lying poolside with a drink in her hand. She was not outdoors alongside her pink marble pool in Florida with a view of the Atlantic, but for her money, the view was every bit as spectacular. She frequently glanced over the top of her magazine to peek at the tan-skinned man swimming laps in the hotel pool. She was drawn to his muscular arms and back, which were half out of the water as he cut back and forth through the pool. She could only see his face for a moment at a time as he turned to breathe, but that was enough to captivate her and fill her with want. She was thinking of Malaina’s date, the handsome and mysterious man who had accompanied her to the funeral. Her eyes grew large as he climbed out of the pool. Look at the bod on that man! She watched intently as he dried himself, exhibiting his muscular physique.
Gul peered over the top of his dark sunglasses at the young woman who followed him into the elevator. He had noticed her at the pool but knew better than to get involved with anyone with his assignment so close at hand. No complications, he’d thought, doing his best to ignore her obvious interest in him.
They were close enough to touch, and it took every last ounce of willpower for him to keep his eyes focused straight ahead on the elevator doors. He could feel her eyes on him as he searched for added inner strength. Hers was a figure to reckon with, and he could feel himself stirring, sensing that she could be his for the taking. Bad timing. Don’t do it. Her magazine slipped out of her hand. He watched as she bent over from the waist. Oh, praise be. What the hell?
They emerged from the elevator, staring at one another as if they would devour each other on the spot. He opened the door to his room, and she pushed him in. He turned and took her in his arms, kicking the door closed with his foot as he placed his mouth firmly against hers. He gave her a deep and lingering kiss.
She pulled away, toying with him, her eyes hungry with desire. They came together, meeting in the center of the room.
He removed her robe, took her bikini top in his hand, and tore it, the fabric burning her skin on her back before it gave way.
He stared into her eyes, his own burning like black onyx, and took her breast in his hand. He pressed his lips to hers again, giving her a brief but purposeful kiss. “I hope you like it rough.” He pushed her back against the door and ground against her forcefully. He kissed her softly on the neck once and then again. She moaned passionately, and then he bit her on the neck, substituting pain for pleasure.
“Ouch. Not like that.” Carolyn knew from the intensity of the bite that it would leave a mark. The old shit will see that for sure. Damn it.
He backed off momentarily and then bit her again, harder this time.
“No,” she yelled. She put her hand to her neck and found blood. “Fuck!” she spat furiously. “I’m out of here.” She tried to break free, but he was far too strong and kept her pinned against the door. The struggle only served to increase her excitement. She knew better than to stay but couldn’t help herself.
He pushed her head with his hand until it smacked against the door and kissed her long and hard.
She was moaning when the door shattered behind her. She tumbled to the floor on top of Gul.
It was too soon for her to collect her thoughts when a man and a woman burst into the room. Her first thought was that the end had come, that her husband had someone following her and was going to kill them both.
~~~
It wasn’t until Stuart cuffed Gul that I identified myself to the woman. “FBI, ma’am,” I said. �
��You’re under arrest.”
Chapter 58
“She’s not the contact,” I spouted unhappily over the phone, making my disappointment apparent to Bill Wallace. “Damn it.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. Of course I’m sure. Shit! Just a minute, sir.”
Stuart approached me. “It’ll take them about two hours to replace the door to Gul’s room. Hopefully that won’t compromise anything.”
“And Gul?”
“He’s in the van with Cabrera on their way to the sweat lodge.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I put the phone back to my ear. “Bill, you heard?”
“Yes,” Wallace said. “I’m on my way there to assist in Gul’s debriefing.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
“So who is this bimbo?” Wallace asked.
I shook my head before responding. “You’re sitting down, I hope.”
“I’m in a car. Of course I’m sitting down. Now who the hell is she?”
“Carolyn Abate, Gaetano Abate’s wife.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ.”
I pictured Wallace sighing, covering his mouth, and gazing at the ceiling in characteristic form. “Exactly. How do we play this, sir? First she was hysterical, screaming that she thought her husband had sent us to kill her, and now that she’s calmed down, she’s threatening me with legal action saying that Abate will have my ass for harassing her. What’s a Florida crime boss doing in New York?”
“Silvestri’s funeral.”
“I know that he was at the funeral, but you can’t tell me he came up here just to pay his respects.”
“No. He’s got other things on his agenda. I was just briefed on the funeral surveillance tapes. We picked up a conversation he had with Michael Orzani, one of Silvestri’s men. He’s planning to take over Silvestri’s territory. I’ll play the tape for you when you come in.”
“Wonderful,” I said sarcastically. “Anyway. What do you want to do with the delightful Mrs. Abate?”
“Arrest her. Stuff her in a rabbit hole for all I care. I didn’t want to pick up Gul so soon. I was hoping to have a lead on the money, but now that we’ve got him … So remind me, why exactly did you break in his door?”
“We heard a woman screaming. Knee-jerk reaction, I guess. Sorry.”
“Forget it. What’s done is done.”
“Turns out it was just rough sex. I guess I jumped the gun.”
“It’s a goddamn wrinkle, that’s for sure, but I’m sure we can patch this together.”
“Jesus, I hope so. I know that you’re not a religious man, but …”
“Yeah, Mather, I get it. I’ll say a prayer. Listen, I’ve got a bombshell for you.”
“What?”
“Our team in Florida arrested Soto. He bartered a classic car for cash and was going to use the money to export a shipment of munitions to a buyer in Pakistan that we know is a front for a violent militant group.”
“Which one?”
“Lashkar-e-Jhangvi.”
“LeJ? Jesus. I knew Soto was a worthless piece of shit, but LeJ?” LeJ was an extremely militant group with close ties to Al Qaeda. They were responsible for many heinous acts of terrorism. “What kind of munitions?”
“Your typical merchandise: assault rifles, machine guns, grenades, and rocket launchers … and a case of binary-stage sarin gas shells, from the same lot as the ones you just found in Gul’s room.”
My head was spinning. I thought about Rachel Rabin, Linuzzi, and Silvestri. Soto, I wondered. He wasn’t just Rachel’s boss—there had to be more to it than that. “Sir, are you still friendly with that CIA spook? What’s his name?”
“Lars Tandy.”
“Does he owe you any favors?”
“Several, but that’s by my count, not his. Company men have an odd way of keeping score.”
“Good. I’ve got an angle I’d like him to check out. I need a quick primer on Israeli intelligence.”
Chapter 59
Israel
Gershom Aharoni entered Joshua Gardens, a green lung park in the city of Tel Aviv, and looked around to get his bearings. He had been there before but not in a decade, not since his days as a teenager. He marveled at the lush tropical vegetation that bordered the paved walkways. The assortment of colors and texture was awe inspiring and seemed to him so much more vivid than he remembered. The vegetation was lush and extremely full, making it almost impossible to see any of the other pathways. He was completely secluded within a labyrinth of trails that led every which way.
He thought that he’d be able to remember his way to the appointed rendezvous but soon began to question his ability to navigate the enshrouded network of pathways. He checked the time and saw that he only had a few minutes to get to the bench he was looking for.
The path that branched out to the east seemed like a good choice, and he had a sense that it would lead him where he needed to go. He walked about fifty yards before losing his confidence and coming to a stop. It was two minutes to noon, just two minutes for him to reach his destination. The sun was blazing hot, and he became nervous, worrying that he’d be late and miss his appointment. Sweat began to trickle down his chest. He walked another fifty yards and smiled after recognizing his intended destination.
A man was waiting for Aharoni on the bench, wearing dark glasses and a nondescript baseball cap. He never made eye contact but instead stood the moment Aharoni sat down, leaving an envelope behind.
Aharoni slipped the envelope into the pocket of his slacks and then blew out a deep breath of air. He had just collected the equivalent of the annual salary he earned working at the airport. He was alone for no more than ten seconds before several Israeli Yamam officers jumped out from behind the cover of lush foliage that bordered the pathway. The elite counter-terrorism officers brandished Para Micro-Uzis and Glock 17 automatics.
Aharoni put his hands in the air without being asked.
Two of the Yamam officers cuffed Aharoni, and the others immediately gave chase to assist a second team that had been assigned to take down the man in the baseball cap.
Commander Naftali Yoelsen sneered at Aharoni as he slipped the envelope out of his pocket. The envelope was stuffed with sheqels. He fanned out the bills. “About two hundred thousand sheqels here,” he announced to the other Yamam officers. “More than fifty thousand US.” He stared at Aharoni with contempt. “Blood money. Was it worth it; the lives of two IAF pilots?” He spat on the ground. “You disgust me.” He pulled out his radio and spoke to his commanding officer. “We’ve got Aharoni. The traitor was collecting his money.”
“And his contact?” his commanding officer asked.
Before Yoelsen could answer, the discharge of automatic weapons filled the air; bursts of bullets continued for several seconds on and off, and then finally ended. The park filled with the sound of a guttural moan loud enough to hurt his ears. He shook his head with disappointment and spoke into the radio. “Um, not so good.”
Chapter 60
“Where did you stick Abate’s wife?” Wallace asked with his eyes blazing straight ahead like the headlamps on a freight train as we marched together down the dimly lit corridor. If you looked closely enough, you could almost see steam billowing from his ears like smoke rising from the smokestack of the Erie Lackawanna Railroad.
“She’s in custody,” I told him. “I’ll keep her on ice until she begins to squirm, and then I’ll send in the beast to give her a thorough mind scorching.”
He glanced at me quickly. “Jereaux?”
“Yup.” SA Andrew Jereaux was a Yaley with a one-sixty IQ and the appearance of an ogre. He knew just how to put his intimidating demeanor to best use. The unfaithful Carolyn Abate would be like putty in his large, callous-covered hands.
“Always thinking, huh, Mather? Atta girl.”
Wallace slid his card key over the scanner, and the door to the interrogation room opened. Gul was handcuffed to a steel table. He had a fat lip and a black eye that was just
getting bigger and juicier as I stared at it.
We sat down opposite him, Wallace with his stone-cold puss and me with my I’ll-rip-your heart-out stare. We had discussed and dismissed the good-cop-bad-cop scenario long before entering the room, opting instead to go at him with both guns blazing.
“How’d you like something cold to put on that swollen eye?” Wallace began.
“Sure,” Gul replied. “I’ll take a rare porterhouse and a glass of single-malt scotch.”
Neither Wallace nor I cracked a smile.
“Yeah. Anything else?” Wallace asked sarcastically.
“Why am I here?” Gul asked, trying to appear naïve. “I don’t think the lady I was with was under age; I didn’t pay her for her time so…”
I stared at Gul coolly to let him know that I was short on patience. “All right, let’s stop the bullshit, shall we? You know why you’re here.”
He snickered. “If something crawled up your ass and died, I’d be happy to slither on up your skirt and remove the blockage, gorgeous.”
“You really are smooth with the ladies.” I smiled congenially, and then I lunged across the table, grabbing him by his shirt. “Want to go for a second black eye, shit bird?”
I felt Wallace’s hand on my arm. He didn’t need to caution me verbally; his touch conveyed the necessary warning. I took my hands off Gul.
“So how are we going to play this?” Wallace asked. “If you’re through with your fun and games, I’d like to get straight to the answers part of the program. Tell me what I want to know, and maybe I’ll save you a trip to Gitmo and an all-day pass on the water-board ride.”
Gul frowned. He drummed the fingers of one hand on the steel table and then abruptly stopped and looked up at Wallace. “I’m not a hero, you know. I’m not a martyr either.”
“We know you’re a hired gun,” I said. “We found the grenade launcher in your room, along with twenty-four gas grenades that we now know were stolen from a military armaments warehouse in Florida. Do you have any idea of the type of munitions you had there?”
The Mather Triad: Series Boxed Set (Chloe Mather Thrillers) Page 21