Special Ops Affair

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Special Ops Affair Page 15

by Jennifer Morey


  Alice nodded unsteadily. Odie reluctantly walked toward the door.

  “Odelia.”

  With her hand on the front door handle, Odie turned her head to look back.

  “I’m afraid.”

  Now that Odie could no longer deny the truth, she could see how weak Alice was. Women like her allowed men to rule them. Own them. Rob them of their independence. And men like Luis needed women like that. So they could get away with horrible things and still keep a wife. Luis was a man who wore two faces. One, the loving husband and long-time family friend, the other a self-gratifying devil.

  “I’m not,” Odie replied, and left.

  Sitting in the backseat of the cab, she told the cab driver to take her back to the hotel. After that, he’d take her to Hersch’s office, where she’d retrieve whatever data her key logger had busily gathered. Then she would take Luis down. She didn’t care what it took.

  Jag checked his watch. About a half hour had passed since Odie had left.

  “We should go,” he said to Calan.

  They were still at the restaurant, and had just finished discussing the situation and going over viable action plans—the biggest one centered around Odie. Damn her. He had to agree with Calan that she was unpredictable right now. Odie emotional was new territory for anyone who knew her. That made her dangerous. It also made her a danger to herself. If she went to Raybourne by herself, what would he do?

  He thought about calling Cullen but decided not to. Not yet. If she went off the deep end in a really bad way, then he would. He wouldn’t put it past her to find a gun now. And he’d probably need backup.

  “Where to?”

  “Find Odie.” Jag stood from the booth and started toward the exit.

  Calan was a half step behind him. “You know where she went?”

  “I have an idea.”

  “Getting to know her pretty well, huh?”

  “I just know how she operates.”

  “Independently?”

  Jag smiled but it was with much chagrin. “Very.”

  Calan chuckled. “You’re a lucky man.”

  Lucky? “I don’t think that’s the word I’d use.” Cursed, maybe, to be the man to fall in love with Odelia Frank.

  “There aren’t many women who match men in our line of work, but she seems to. Her background certainly suggests it.”

  Match him…

  And what were those thoughts about love? He pushed them aside when he realized what Calan had said.

  The man had lost two women the same way. Both murdered—probably by the same man. Jag couldn’t imagine the anguish.

  “I’m sorry about Kate,” Jag said.

  “She was an amazing woman. A lot like Odie in many ways. Not as brash, though.”

  Brash. Now there was a word to describe her. Jag chuckled. “And you think I’m lucky.”

  Calan didn’t return the humor. “Better you than me. I’m done with women for a while. It just hasn’t worked out for me.”

  Better off a loner. So many guys in this job leaned toward that, some not by choice.

  “The right one will come along.”

  “I’ve already had two. What do I have to do? Have nine lives?” He shook his head. “No thanks. I’m on sabbatical. Maybe a permanent one.”

  Jag could see how his past would make him feel that way. If he’d lost two women he loved, it would jade him, too.

  Entering the atrium, Jag saw the reporter who’d followed him and Odie amongst a cluster of plants and trees. He sat on a sofa reading a newspaper, or pretending to. Jag swore under his breath and stopped, holding his arm out so Calan did the same.

  “What’s the matter?” Calan asked.

  “Reporter.” He nodded toward the sofa where the reporter was looking over the top of the newspaper toward the elevators. He hadn’t seen them go into the restaurant and was waiting for him and Odie to come down from their room.

  “Why is there a reporter here?”

  “Long story. Let’s go out another way.”

  Jag led him down a hall near the checkout counter and followed the signs to the parking garage.

  “Is he following Frasier’s murder?” Calan asked.

  “No, he’s following Odie and me.”

  “Looking for a story?”

  “One he hopes will lead to Cullen, I’m sure.”

  Calan nodded. “That’s right. Odie was in the news back when he rescued that woman from Afghanistan.”

  “Now you see our problem.”

  “Now I see your problem.”

  Jag drove them to Alexandria and pulled to a stop in front of Senator Raybourne’s house. A car drove past but there was no one on the street. It was beginning to get dark. He and Calan walked to the door. Jag knocked. When no one answered, he rang the bell. Still, no one answered. There didn’t appear to be any lights on.

  He glanced at Calan.

  “You think she’s already come and gone?”

  “Maybe.” He tried the knob. It wasn’t locked. He looked at Calan again.

  “Something doesn’t feel right,” Calan said.

  And Jag agreed. His instinct was yelling a warning at him. He reached under his shirt for his gun. Calan did the same, covering Jag as he entered first.

  The house was dark and quiet.

  Calan covered Jag as he went from the shadowy great room and kitchen area to a den and two guest rooms. Jag climbed the stairs to the second level ahead of Calan. On the landing, Jag covered Calan as he entered another bedroom.

  Groaning coming from the room at the end of the hall made Jag hurry there. He entered the master bedroom. Lying on the floor, Alice was tied and coming out of a stupor. Tucking his gun back into his pants, Jag turned on a light and knelt beside her. He checked the bloody cut on her temple before untying her wrists.

  She blinked up at him, obviously still disoriented.

  Calan untied her ankles.

  “Are you all right?” Jag asked.

  Alice propped herself up onto her hand, sitting on her hip with her legs curled. She rubbed near the cut on her temple and eyed him.

  “Who are you? You look familiar.” Then she blinked some more. “You’re that man Odelia was with. You came to my Kate’s funeral.”

  “What happened here?” Jag asked.

  Her breathing became more erratic, as if she only just then remembered why she was sitting on the floor of her bedroom with a cut on her head.

  “Luis…he came home and he…” Her eyes widened. “He heard me talking to Odie. She told me Frasier was killed and…and…and Luis…we fought and then he…he hit me.”

  “Where is he now?” Calan asked.

  “He—he’s going after her. You have to hurry.” She began to cry. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Where? Where did Odie go?”

  “I…I don’t know. I think Luis was going to go to the hotel where you’re staying with her.”

  Jag doubted that. More than likely he’d get Hersch to send someone else after her. Just as he’d done before.

  “I confronted him about everything Odelia told me,” Alice said. “Sage’s mission, Frasier’s death. And Luis’s involvement. He was furious by the time he left. He said he was coming back to take care of me when he finished with Odelia.”

  Why didn’t he just kill her before he left? Maybe he loved his wife and hoped to browbeat her into submission. Dangerous. Alice could go to the police anytime. More likely he’d have Hersch take care of her. Unless he was beginning to realize he was reaching the end of his rope. How many more people did he think he could get away with killing?

  “What did Odie say about Luis’s involvement?” Calan asked. He stood to Jag’s right.

  “She said she didn’t believe you were responsible for everything, Luis was. I should have listened to her. I didn’t want to believe he was capable of…” She broke down into tears.

  “She believed Luis was behind all this?” Hope soared in Jag.

  Alice nodded through her tears. “I s
hould have never broken up with Frasier. We could have gone somewhere for a while, just until this all went away. He’d still be alive now.”

  “You have no way of knowing that. Frasier wanted to avenge his brother’s death as much as Odie wants to avenge her husband and father’s, and now Kate’s. You wouldn’t have been able to stop him.”

  Alice sniffled and didn’t look very convinced. “What am I going to do now? Where will I go?”

  “I know someone I can call to watch over her while we’re gone,” Calan told Jag. “We can’t leave her here alone in case Raybourne makes it back before we do.”

  But that wasn’t what Alice had meant. She was alone without Luis. What would she do? “You’re going to be all right,” Jag told her. “Odie will make sure of it.”

  Calan made the call.

  Where was Odie? He had to find her, Jag thought hard. Where would she have gone?

  Her key logger…

  She’d go get that first. Jag had left the visitor badge in the hotel room. He checked his watch. She’d probably already been there and left. So, she’d go to Hersch’s and then the internet café. She wouldn’t be worried about him catching up with her now. She was on their side. His side.

  “Wait for me,” Odie told the cab driver, handing him a hundred-dollar bill. “There’s more if you do as I ask.”

  She’d told him to wait in front of the hotel, too, while she went in to get Jag’s handy visitor badge. And now she’d asked him to park along the street in front of Defense Initiative.

  He smiled. “Sure thing.”

  Leaving her laptop in the backseat, she got out and jogged toward the back of Defense Initiatives. It was getting late in the evening and this was ballsy of her to go in alone, without a gun. But she didn’t really see a choice. Things were going to happen fast now and she didn’t want to lose valuable information her key logger had recorded. If it had recorded anything. Hersch may not have done anything untoward on his computer in the last few days.

  She took the same route to the shipping door. The badge worked like a charm and she silently thanked Jag for being so thorough. She was still mad at him for taking Calan’s side earlier, but she didn’t blame him. He’d seen the truth before she was able to accept it.

  Upstairs, she heard the sound of someone tapping away on a keyboard. Someone was working late. She avoided that area and made her way to Hersch’s office. Around the corner of a cubicle wall, she saw that his door was open and a light was on.

  “Damn it,” she whispered.

  Ducking into a cubicle, she listened. He was talking on the phone but she couldn’t decipher what he said. But then his voice grew louder. He was coming out of his office.

  “I’ll take care of it,” she heard him say. “Meet me in the warehouse in one hour.”

  Who was he talking to? Had they alerted him to her presence? It didn’t seem so. But she wouldn’t take any chances. She had to hurry.

  Odie leaned around the cubicle wall. Hersch held a cell phone to his ear and walked toward the front of the building. Rushing into his office, she stuck the key logging device into the USB port and waited a few seconds. The software would automatically download all it had recorded. She pulled the device out and went to the door. The hall was empty. Stepping out of the office, she headed for the stairs. In the shipping area, she glanced at the camera before pushing the door open. She broke into a run and sprinted all the way back to the waiting cab, looking around for anything out of place. It seemed clear.

  “Downtime Internet Café,” she told the cab driver, who checked the still-running meter and then eyed her in the rearview mirror. “Hurry.”

  He began driving. She glanced behind her through the rear window. There was a car, but she hadn’t seen it when she’d gotten into the cab.

  “Drive faster,” she told the cab driver.

  He eyed her in the rearview mirror again.

  “There’s more money if you do.”

  The cab sped up and she tensely waited out the ride.

  When the cab stopped, she handed the driver a wad of cash. He smiled.

  “Sure you don’t need me to wait?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m sure.” She didn’t know how long she’d be so she’d let him go this time.

  “Thanks, lady,” he said when he saw her sizable tip, on top of the hundred she’d already given him.

  Taking her laptop with her, she got out and looked up and down the street. Not seeing anything notable, she went into the internet café and paid for an hour. She found a seat that was relatively secluded and booted her laptop.

  She put in the key logging device and scanned through Hersch’s activity. He’d logged into his computer and email several times. The email was through a browser. Just moments before she’d gotten to his office to retrieve the data, he’d sent an email.

  Getting too close. We need to move ahead of schedule.

  Odie used Hersch’s login information to get into his email remotely. Once she had the screen up, she sorted the emails to bring up all from the same sender.

  There was an email thread arranging to meet.

  We have a contract for Afghanistan. I’ll meet you where we planned for the exchange. Do you have your end cleared?

  It was vague and cryptic, but Odie would bet her thong underwear that it was Dharr. And Hersch’s client had to be Luis.

  Dharr replied with: Clear.

  The next email read: There’s been a delay. We have a problem with the Afghanistan contract. Someone is looking into L’s affairs. Call me when it’s safe and I’ll explain.

  The reply came back from the nondescript email address.

  This deal is too important. Who is it? I will handle it.

  Odie felt chills ripple over her arms and over her scalp. The someone looking into Luis’s affairs was Kate.

  Her name is Kate Johnson. Following that was Kate’s home address.

  We proceed as planned came Dharr’s response. Dharr killed Kate. Luis hadn’t given the order. But he’d told Hersch and that was the same as assuring her death.

  Hersch responded with: Everything will be shipped to M-EX by the end of next week.

  Odie checked the date. Just three days before Kate was killed. Hersch must be planning to ship tomorrow for a Friday delivery in Albania. From there the arms would be transferred to Afghanistan, where Dharr had somehow managed to make it appear as if the arms were going to a legitimate military force.

  Odie forwarded all the emails to Cullen. Maybe he could trace their origin.

  She searched through the other emails but found nothing of value. Shutting everything down, she put her laptop in its case and headed for the exit.

  She paused at the door and scanned the street, wishing she’d have told the cab driver to wait again. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. No familiar cars. No strange men lingering here or there.

  Pushing the door open, she walked to the curb and looked for a cab. She saw one and waved. Just as it pulled over, she spotted a man standing across the street taking pictures. Of her. It was the reporter. Glad the cab had arrived, she got in.

  “Grand Hyatt,” she told the driver. He started driving.

  Looking back, she saw the reporter hadn’t moved, but still watched. She relaxed against the seat, but then noticed the driver was slowing to a stop.

  “What are you…?”

  Two men got into the backseat, one on each side of her. One of them pushed a gun against her ribs. The other was Hersch.

  Chapter 11

  Jag parked in a handicap spot and left the rental running as he got out and headed for the internet café. Calan was behind him. It was the same internet café he’d found Odie in before. He didn’t see her through the front windows and got a bad feeling.

  Inside, he went to the counter where a young man stood watching their approach.

  “We’re looking for a woman who may have been here. She’s on the tall side, dark hair, blue eyes.”

  “Beautiful. Nice body,�
�� Calan added.

  Jag sent him a warning look.

  “Yeah, there was someone in here like that. She had a laptop with her. Just left a few minutes ago, caught a cab out front.”

  “Thanks.” Jag left the café and stopped just outside, scanning the street.

  He saw nothing unusual, but his gut told him something different.

  “Isn’t that the reporter?” Calan asked.

  Jag followed his gaze to a car parked across the street. He headed there. The reporter started his car. Jag must’ve looked ominous or something because the guy seemed scared.

  At the driver’s door, Jag made a roll-down-your-window gesture with his hand.

  The reporter eyed him dubiously and lowered the window three inches.

  “Where did she go?” Jag demanded.

  “What’s it worth to you?”

  “Your broken nose if you don’t tell me.”

  The reporter contemplated him for a moment. “I want an exclusive on her. She does an interview with me.”

  “No deal. Where is she?” He was getting pissed.

  Calan moved to the front of the vehicle. Now the reporter would have to drive over him to get away.

  The man noticed and looked up at Jag. “I know you two are up to something and it’s more than a family friend’s murder. That’s only part of it. What’s going on? Are you investigating Defense Initiatives? What did Frasier Darby know about it?”

  “I don’t have time for this. You tell me where she is right now and nobody gets hurt.” He lifted the hem of his shirt so the man could see his gun. “My friend has one just like it.”

  The reporter looked from the gun to his face.

  “I’ll break this window and shove it in your mouth in two seconds if you don’t start talking,” Jag said.

  “She left in a cab about fifteen minutes ago,” the reporter relented. “Two other guys got into the cab after she did. They left their car parked over there.” He pointed to a black sedan not far from the internet café. “It’s the same car that followed her after she left Defense Initiatives to come here. It passed me when I was following her, too. I’ve been following her since she left the hotel.”

 

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