by Allen Kent
I took a step back from the door. “Why don’t you both climb out so we can talk a little more comfortably? And anyone else who’s in there.” The man in the driver’s seat eased open the door and stepped onto the pavement. He was four or five inches shorter than I am, 5’ 10” or 11”, with a gym-junkie kind of build and a T-shirt designed to show it off. The sliding door opened on the passenger side and Tyler Brawn emerged, looked with amusement at Joseph, then gave me a friendly nod across the top of the van. Joseph leaned through the door, glanced around the interior, then gave me an “all clear” bob of the head.
I stepped off the pavement onto the grass of the knoll and nodded for both men to join me. Joseph trailed Brawn but stayed beside the front fender of the Sienna.
Brawn was taller, with the same military cut to his blond hair and a lanky frame. He moved with a slow, sullen saunter that suggested he was a guy who did things when he was damn good and ready. I took an immediate dislike to the man and turned my attention to his partner.
“You must be Jason Anzar,” I guessed. Both men’s eyes shifted toward me in a moment of surprise, but their expressions didn’t change. I watched for them to exchange a quick glance, but it didn’t come. Instead, the shorter man studied me for a long moment, bending his mouth into a thoughtful frown.
“Well, this is obviously more than a loitering concern,” he said finally, looking casually around until he fixed on Johansson’s Tahoe that had eased into the first of the clinic’s drives. “And this may be way more than you want to get involved in. Why don’t you tell us what you really want from us?”
“Are you Jason Anzar?” I pressed.
“And if I am?”
“Then I’d like to know what the two of you are doing here, and why you were parked like this in a Mercedes Sprinter about a month ago at the Hampton.”
“We’ve got family in the hospital here. We’re trying to stay close without paying for a hotel.”
I nodded. “Which hospital? And who’s the patient?”
“I don’t think there’s any reason we need to tell you that, Sheriff. It’s really none of your business.”
“What I think is that your being here has nothing to do with sick relatives.”
“Then you must have some other theory. Why don’t you tell us what it is?”
“I suspect it has something to do with two Syrian visitors who have been in town at the same time you’ve been here. Am I right?”
Anzar’s frown relaxed, but the crease between his brows remained. “I don’t believe you gave us your name, Sheriff? Or your friend’s here?”
“I’m Sheriff Tate. This is Officer Joseph. That’s State Patrolman Dave Johansson over in the Tahoe. Farid Sayegh’s body was found in my county, so I have a special interest in all this.”
The crease became a momentary arch of surprise. We had managed to keep Sayegh’s identity and the story of his body being blown from the dam out of the media. Anzar obviously didn’t know the body had been found. He gave a dismissive snort.
“We don’t have any idea what you’re taking about,” he said calmly.
I looked over at his partner. “What about you, Brawn? Do you know what I’m talking about?” The lanky man shrugged, looking back quickly to see where Joseph was. “No idea,” he said, satisfied that she wasn’t closing in on him.
I stepped back toward the Sienna. “Mind if we take a look in your van? If you’re just hanging around, that shouldn’t be a problem.”
Anzar stepped with me, keeping himself between me and the driver’s door. “It’s no real problem, but no. You can’t look in.”
“Why do you care, if you’re just here for a sick family member?”
Anzar put his hand on the door handle. “Maybe because it’s a mess. Maybe because we just don’t like the idea of two cops trying to do what they know they don’t have any right to do. Your partner there already looked inside, which was more than she had permission to do.” He gave a quick head nod toward Tyler Brawn. “I think it’s time we were moving on—unless you have some real reason for keeping us.”
I pressed in close enough that he couldn’t open the door. “Why don’t you tell us about the Talismen?” I said.
Anzar stepped back and again pursed his lips, staring at me intently. Then he reached for his pocket. I slipped my hand over the grip on my weapon.
“Relax,” he said. “I’m just getting my phone. I think I can take care of this with a call.” He pulled out the cell, hit three numbers with his thumb, and held it to his ear. Someone answered immediately.
“We have a situation here, Sir,” he said. “Some local sheriff and a state patrolwoman are giving us a hard time. I wouldn’t have called, but they aren’t giving up on us and asked about the Talismen.” He listened, then said, “Yes, Sir,” and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Then he leaned silently against the van as if waiting for me to speak. I didn’t.
For a full minute, the four of us stood like statues, seeing who would flinch first: Brawn with hands in pockets and head tilted to one side; Joseph with eyes darting from one of the men to the other. I finally gave in.
“Are you going to tell us about the Talismen?”
Anzar jerked his head in the direction of Joseph. “I’m waiting for her to get a call.”
It came in less than five minutes. She glanced at the display, then said, “Officer Joseph,” officially into the phone. As she listened, her eyes continued to move from one of the van’s occupants to the other, her expression grim. “Yes, Sir,” she said finally and punched the connection closed.
“Let’s go, Tate,” she said sharply, tilting her head toward the pickup. “I’ll fill you in later.”
Anzar’s expression remained stoic. No smile. No gloating. Just a silent mask.
“Stay out of my county,” I warned as I turned to follow Joseph back across the lot. “And move your van. You’re making the people inside nervous.”
We stopped in front of the Ford without getting in. “That was the Superintendent,” she said soberly. “My top boss. All he said was ‘Leave the guys alone and don’t ask questions.’”
I shook my head. “Who called him?”
“He didn’t say. But it was obviously someone he had to listen to.”
“Does he have to listen to anyone other than the governor?”
“You figure it out,” she said testily. “All I know is we need to leave the guys alone.”
22
By the time Rosario pulled in beside us in the Dental Solutions parking area, he had also received a call. We joined him in Johansson’s Tahoe.
“Mine came from the Director,” he muttered. “I have no idea what the hell’s going on. When those of us in counter-intel don’t know about this Talismen group, something’s pretty screwed up.”
I watched the silver Sienna leave the veterinary hospital lot and disappear down Independence Street, heading west.
“He didn’t tell you who they were, or he didn’t know?” I asked.
“He didn’t say. But from his tone, my guess is that he didn’t know. He sounded as pissed as I am.”
“Who could give him that kind of order?”
“The Director of National Intelligence. Possibly the Attorney General. Or the President, of course.”
Joseph shifted uncomfortably on the seat beside me. “That guy could make one call that moved through channels that fast? Hardly seems possible.”
“He obviously has some kind of hotline,” Rosario said. “And you can bet your sweet ass they won’t stop watching our target.”
“I’ll assume that comment wasn’t directed at me,” Joseph said coolly.
Rosario reddened. “You’re right. A figure of speech I need to quit using. My apologies.”
I jumped in before Joseph could take another swipe at the agent. “But you’re right. They won’t give up. The question is, how will they keep watching?”
A drone swooped high overhead from the direction of the park north of the veterinary hosp
ital and settled on top of one of the pillars supporting the peaked awning that covered the hotel’s entrance. As we watched, a camera strapped to its underbelly swung in our direction.
“Well, Tate,” Rosario muttered. “There’s your answer. The sonsabitches can watch from anywhere around here. They’re looking at us right now.”
“So,” Joseph pressed. “What do we do about our plan?”
Surprisingly, the special agent looked at me. “I’ve been given an order. Officer Joseph has a direct order. Unless you get a call from your county officials, you haven’t been given an order. I think we need to leave this in your hands, Tate.” I liked the way he thought.
“I suggest we move ahead as planned,” I suggested. “Is Yusef still taking his morning jog through the park along the creek? That’s the obvious place for him to get hit.”
Rosario nodded. “He won’t give it up. And he won’t agree to let me run with him. He says he uses it as his own form of prayer.”
“But you do follow him?” I confirmed, wanting to be certain nothing had changed from our agreement shaped at the courthouse.
“I follow. But far enough back someone could hit him from fifty yards away and be gone into the trees before I could get to them.”
“Then we stay with the plan.”
“Who’s got these Talismen characters?” Joseph wanted to know, staring up at the drone.
I raised a quick hand. “That needs to be me. I’ll find the guys and stay with them. They’ve got to keep that camera here, watching the drive, and can’t be far away if they plan to trail Sayegh when he moves. Joseph, why don’t you join the other patrol officers in keeping an eye on the hotel.”
She gave me a skeptical frown. “There are two of them. If they split up at some point, you can’t follow them both.”
“And we can’t have you messing this up by having your commander learn you’ve disobeyed an order. Grace should be ready for active duty. I’ll bring her back in to work with me.”
Joseph’s frown turned cynical. “Is she equal to this?”
I didn’t like her tone. “She can hold her own with any of us,” I insisted. “Could you have Agent Rosario take you back to get your car? I need to start looking for our Talismen.”
Instinct, and a little common sense, told me the Mississippi trackers wouldn’t stay with the silver Sienna. That meant one of two possibilities. They had the Sprinter somewhere in the city and would switch to it, or they had to buy, steal, or rent another vehicle or have someone bring one to them. If the Sprinter was in Springfield, they couldn’t afford to leave the area of the Arbor Suites to go get it, risking a move by Sayegh while they were away. They would call a taxi or one of the ride services to take one of them to the Mercedes. But instinct again told me that wouldn’t be their move.
Somewhere over in the parking area for the Hulston Cancer Center or in Schaible Lake Park just north of the vet clinic, a conversation was going on just like the one I was having in my head. If the Sprinter was in town, Tyler Brawn might suggest a switch. Then Jason Anzar would point out that I knew he’d been in town when Farid was killed and had the Mercedes. Trading one marked vehicle for another didn’t gain them anything. In fact, the Sprinter was even more distinctive. They needed to be in something we wouldn’t recognize and had to get it without compromising surveillance of the hotel.
I swung the Ford out of the dental office parking lot and turned east, knowing I would be watched by the drone until out of sight. The sun had dropped below the horizon in the west, leaving a thin strip of velvety rose just above the line of trees in my rearview mirror.
“Call Grace Torres,” I ordered my Bluetooth, checking my lights to make sure I’d left them on auto.
Grace answered before I heard the first ring.
“You ready for a little action?” I asked, turning north at the light onto Freemont.
“Beyond ready,” she muttered. “What do you need?”
“I need you in Springfield as quickly as you can get here. But in your Cherokee. And wearing civvies.”
“Where should I meet you?”
“Call as you get close. I may be on the move.”
“The Jeep’s here at the office, and I have clothes in it from when I was at Joseph’s. I’ll change and be there as quick as I can.”
I took the first left onto East Bradford Parkway to loop across the north side of the park toward the cancer center.
“Speed,” I suggested. “There’s really no one down there to catch you right now.”
“Anything special I need to bring?”
“Don’t take time to get anything. We’ll probably be spending the night in your car and can get something to eat here.”
“On my way,” she said.
I guessed the Sienna would be where it could quickly get onto James River Expressway if the drone saw Sayegh leave the hotel. The most likely place was somewhere along the south end of the cancer center. I took the ramp up onto the top level of the north parking garage. The open upper deck held only a dozen cars, and I slipped into a spot against the concrete rail. From the barrier, all of the small lake and walking trail that made up Schaible Lake Park were clearly visible in the evening light. Those using the trail parked in the line of cars directly below me, nosed against the grassy border and sidewalk that separated the cancer center from the parkway. As I studied the layout below, powerful halogens on poles as high as the parking garage flickered on along the walk, lighting the strip and boulevard like midday. I ran my eyes along the line of vehicles, settling on the silver van that filled a spot near where East Bradford met Independence Street. The men had positioned themselves for a quick exit if their drone camera showed Sayegh on the move.
I tried again to slip mentally back into the conversation that must be going on inside its dark interior. Steal a car? Too risky. The last thing the two men wanted was more attention from law enforcement. Were they calling another of the Talismen to deliver a car? I knew I was playing a lot of hunches, but one told me there was some relationship between the Mississippi 155th Armored Brigade Combat Team and this bunch. Nothing official, but I guessed the members were recruited from the brigade when they left the service. Bringing a car up from Jackson meant a drive of about 500 miles. Even if someone came from below the Tennessee line near Memphis, it would take a good five hours. I doubted Qasim Sayegh was going to wait that long.
It was just possible that with the warnings we’d been given by our superiors, they would stick with the Toyota. But I didn’t think so. Jason Anzar had looked at me like he recognized a guy who wasn’t about to get out of the way. They needed to disappear again. That left buying a used car or renting.
I knew Enterprise had two or three neighborhood rental locations in the Medical Mile. If I were down there in that van, I’d have an Uber pull up beside to take me to the closest rental, pay for three days with cash, and ask that they not run my reserve credit card unless the car wasn’t returned on time. The thought had no more than gelled in my supercharged brain when a red Honda CRV pulled up behind the van. Jason Anzar slipped quickly from the Toyota and into the SUV. I watched the Honda exit onto Bradford Parkway and followed it out of sight as it drove north around the park.
Grace called to say she was passing the turnoff to Nixa.
“I’m at the Hulston Cancer Center watching our Talismen from the top of the north parking garage,” I told her. “I think one just went after a rental car. See if you can find a spot near the main entrance and go into the foyer. From the door, you should be able to see their silver Sienna van. It’s pretty close to the exit onto East Bradford. My guess is that not too long after you get here, one of the men will leave the van and walk to some other car in the lot. Follow him and see where the new car is. I’ll start down to you as soon as I see the guy move.”
Ten minutes later, Grace’s black Cherokee turned into the lot below, stopped long enough to let a car back from a spot near the center’s entrance, and pulled into the vacated space. She climbed
quickly from the Jeep and walked deliberately into the building. My phone buzzed immediately.
“In place,” she said, “and I can see the van.”
“I saw you drive in. I won’t come down until we see what our men are going to do. I don’t want to bump into one accidently.”
Three minutes later, the drone hovered slowly down onto the grassy border in front of the van. Tyler climbed out, gathered up the drone, and packed it into the back of the Sienna. He glanced casually around, then walked swiftly to the west across the front of the building and out of sight. Grace waited until he’d passed the entrance, then strolled casually back to her car. When she reached it, she stood beside the door, gazed absently down the lot, and pulled out her phone. She turned as it rang and leaned against the car as if reporting back to a family member about what she had learned inside.
“He got into a white sedan. Looked like a Ford Fusion.”
“Is it parked where they can see the drive coming out of the Arbor Suites?”
She looked around for a moment until she located the hotel, then glanced back at the white car. “Yes. I’d say so.”
“They’ll need to come out of that drive behind you,” I instructed. “Leave your spot and bring the Jeep down the east side of the center until out of their line of sight. There are a couple of spots below me here where we’ll be able to see the exit. I’ll be down to join you in a few minutes.”
I waited until she found a new vantage point, then wound down through the concrete stairwell, leaving the pickup to fend for itself with the three cars that remained on the roof level of the garage.
23
Five hours is a long time to be closed in the front seats of a Jeep Cherokee with a woman about whom your fantasies have only been limited by a boyfriend who was a mean sonofabitch until you shot him. That, and the fact that you’re her boss. I’d like to say the whole situation made me a little uncomfortable. But I’d be lying. From the minute I climbed into the passenger seat, I knew I was going to enjoy the evening.