“So David knew all along that the Yemen explosion was theater.”
Alan nodded. “With an important twist. It gave us the opportunity to end my involvement in Yemen so I could pursue this new group. David was in charge. When he disappeared, I got in contact with the director. David didn’t trust anyone else in the organization, so neither did I. Anyway, I briefed him on where we were on this new mission, and he decided to keep me working in the field, on my own, reporting directly to him.”
“Okay, so you’re working directly for the director. What does that have to do with me?”
They made the left onto the boulevard where Jet indicated and crawled their way downtown, the lunchtime traffic an angry snarl.
“It looks like there may be some overlap I haven’t completely figured out.”
“What does that mean?”
“That one of the groups that’s come up as probably involved with this new terrorist organization, is a familiar name. Grigenko.”
Jet leaned back in her seat. “Impossible. He’s dead. I watched him die on the runway in Nice.”
“I believe you. But we’re talking different Grigenkos here. I’m talking about Sergei, his son.”
“I didn’t know Grigenko had a son...” Jet’s mind raced over the ramifications.
“Yes, and like dad, he’s a real piece of work. If anything, worse than pops. He’s only twenty-five, but he’s already into a host of ugly sidelines – Russian mob, murder for hire, arms dealing, drug running, you name it. He inherited all of his father’s money and has taken over his petroleum interests, but his real love seems to lie in the illegal. That was how he made a name for himself until the untimely death of Grigenko senior, and rather than stepping out of the underworld once he’d inherited several billion, he’s used the money to expand his criminal syndicate and wage war against his adversaries. Quite successfully, I might add.”
“Nothing like a few billion to help solidify your position.”
Alan nodded. “The lucky sperm club. But he’s not happy resting on his laurels. Among other things, he’s now moved into some seriously nasty shit. Bio-weapons. Nuclear material. Bad, bad news.”
“Chip off the old block.”
“Indeed.”
She pointed. “Next street, make a right, and the bank will be up on the right, three blocks.”
“A different one than you’ve been using for the ATM, huh?”
“Yes. The ATM was just a convenience, closer to home.”
“I see. Mind if I ask where you got ten million dollars in that account?”
“We both have long stories to tell, don’t we?” she hinted cryptically, then shifted Hannah to her other leg. “But none of this explains what you’re doing in Uruguay.”
“Watching out for Hannah,” he said simply.
“From what?”
“Everything. It was my promise to David. He made me swear that if anything happened to him, I would stand in for him and ensure that no harm came to either of you.”
“Well, that’s very sentimental, but I can’t help but notice that you showed up, and then a hit squad was close behind.”
“I know. That’s troubling. I don’t understand it myself. It’s an extraordinary coincidence that I’m investigating Grigenko, and then when I finally find you, his goons appear. You know the odds of that being random chance...”
“Effectively zero. Pull over here,” she instructed. “So what’s your theory? How did they find me?”
He shook his head. “They just showed up on the scene, so they couldn’t have known about you for very long. It could be that there’s another loose end we aren’t accounting for. I haven’t had a lot of time to develop a hypothesis…”
“All right. Wait here and I’ll be back in ten minutes. I need to get into the box. I’m taking Hannah with me. No offense,” she swung the door wide, preparing to step out.
“None taken.”
“Come on, sweetie. Let’s go.” Jet hoisted Hannah off her lap and set her standing on the car floor, then slid past her and got out, extending her hand for her daughter to follow. Hannah grabbed it and pulled herself out of the car using her mother’s arm.
“Do they have any problems with your going inside the bank packing a silenced pistol?”
“Not that I know of. Guess we’ll find out,” she said, and then slammed the door shut, her thoughts in turmoil as she walked the thirty yards to the bank entrance. Everything had happened so suddenly. Only hours ago her only care in the world had been Hannah going berserk over not getting her way, and now she had a Russian hit squad gunning for her – and her idyllic existence in Uruguay had been abruptly terminated.
There was no way she would be able to remain in Montevideo. If they had tracked her here, her only option was to disappear again. Although the Russians’ ability to locate her was disconcerting – she needed to close the loop on that and figure out how they had done so, or she would never be safe anywhere.
Worse yet, Hannah would never be safe. Jet’s past had come back to haunt her, again, and now threatened not only her safety but that of her daughter. She snuck a look at Hannah trotting alongside her, the trauma of the events in the office buildings already fading.
Jet entered the bank and approached the manager, who quickly escorted her to the safe deposit vault, where the palm scanner verified her identity. She went to her large box and emptied the contents onto the table, Hannah her sole accompaniment.
A backpack. Three passports: her Thai diplomatic ID, her Belgian identity as an investigative reporter, and the fake Mexican one she had gotten made in California before she and Hannah had slipped over the border. Next was Hannah’s Mexican passport and Thai ID. Several credit cards. A hundred thousand dollars in cash. And a small pouch on a leather cord.
Her heart lurched as she picked it up, fingers tracing lightly across the rough seam, and then she pulled the cord over her head and nestled the little bag between her breasts, out of sight, hidden by her sweater. A bittersweet memory of Matt flitted through her awareness, but she dismissed it. No point in getting sentimental over what might have been. The clock was running, and she needed a clear head.
She packed all the items into the backpack and then returned the empty box to its slot and signaled to Hannah to join her. Mother and daughter left the vault, and Jet stopped and thanked the manager again before she exited onto the sidewalks crowded with business people and office workers hurrying to lunch. They allowed themselves to be carried along by the throng in the direction of the car, and then Jet froze, gripping Hannah’s hand tightly as she stared at the green sports coupe parked where Alan’s Peugeot had been.
There was no sign of him.
Alan was gone.
Chapter 10
Jet waited on the street with Hannah for a few minutes, thinking that Alan might have had to move the car, but then when it became apparent that he wasn’t coming back, she began thinking through her next move. With or without him, she had a problem, and it wasn’t going to get better as time went by.
“Mama, Hannah hungry.”
Of course she was. It was way past her normal meal time, and Jet knew that if she didn’t get food into her soon and then find someplace for her to nap, she would go berserk. That was just how Hannah was. She needed to be very regimented with her food and sleep, or her head would start to spin around.
“All right, sweetie. Let’s get you fed, shall we?” Jet asked, and Hannah nodded, but she was already starting to pout. Jet had maybe five minutes before she had a full meltdown on her hands.
She looked around for a restaurant and saw a crowded diner at the end of the block. They pushed their way in and had to wait a few minutes until a couple vacated a booth by the back. The waitress was quick to clean it, and soon they were considering the menu, Hannah becoming increasingly agitated as her hunger took hold.
“Oh, boy. Look at these choices. Wow. Spaghetti. Grilled cheese sandwich. Noodles with butter. Macaroni and cheese,” Jet read.
> Hannah’s eyes lit up on the mention of the last choice, and she started banging the table with enthusiasm. “Macaroni! Macaroni!”
They ordered, and Jet kept her occupied with some bread and butter, which Hannah gratefully took small pieces of and stuffed into her mouth, and when their entrées arrived, she fumbled with her spoon until Jet helped her. Jet’s fish was only so-so, but she wasn’t in any mood to complain, and she ate it mechanically, mulling over her options.
The townhouse was off-limits – it was the first place they would be looking for her. And being hunted with Hannah was going to pose some serious problems. It was hard enough to evade a professional assassination team without having to worry about the care and feeding of a toddler. She needed to find someplace safe where she could regroup and craft some sort of a response – and right now she had no plan and only a vague idea of what she was up against.
She paid the bill and Hannah yawned noisily, alerting Jet to the next item on the day’s agenda – it was natural that her child would be exhausted after all the excitement. Jet rose and took her hand.
“Honey, we’re in for a treat. We’re going to stay in a hotel for a little while, just like when we were in Mexico!”
Hannah regarded her doubtfully, and then shrugged. She was tired, and when she hit the wall like this she didn’t really care what they did as long as she got to sleep.
They exited the restaurant and were meandering down the block when two loud honks from a few feet away startled them.
“Hey. Come on. Get in,” Alan called.
The blue Peugeot was double-parked by the bank, occupying one of the four precious lanes of the downtown street. They ran to it and Jet opened the back door. Hannah threw herself in headfirst, and then climbed onto the rear seat. Jet quickly followed her, and when the door closed Alan pulled away, waving apologetically at the cars behind him.
“Where did you go? I thought we’d lost you.”
“It would be nice if you had a cell phone or something.”
“I do. A burner. I suppose I should have given you the number,” she conceded.
“A cop came along and was pretty interested in the scrapes on the front fenders from the garbage cans. It took me fifty dollars’ worth of pesos to make him go away, and I didn’t think it was a smart idea to wait around, in case someone had reported the shooting in the alley. Sorry. It took a while to circle around in the traffic, and by the time I made it back, you were nowhere to be found.”
“We need to get Hannah to sleep. Any ideas?”
“Can she sleep in the car?”
“I suppose so.” Jet turned to her daughter. “Can you go nappies in the car?”
Hannah thought it over, and then nodded, her eyes drooping.
“Okay, we’ll find someplace quiet to park and then you can get some shut-eye.” He glanced at Jet in the mirror. “How long does she sleep for?”
“An hour usually does the trick, although left to her own devices she’ll stay down for two.”
“Let’s get out of downtown and find someplace quiet. You know the neighborhoods better than I do. Where to?”
“There’s an area over by the botanical gardens that’s usually deserted. Keep going this way. I’ll direct you.”
“Did you get everything?” he asked.
“Yes, mission accomplished, although we’re going to need to get some clothes pretty soon. At least a couple of outfits apiece.”
They found a tranquil street ten minutes later and he parked, leaving the windows down a crack as Hannah snuggled on the seat, using her backpack as a pillow. Jet moved to the passenger seat so Hannah could have the back seat to herself, and she was out in two minutes. Jet knew from past experience that you could set off a bomb next to Hannah and she wouldn’t wake up, so she was confident that a quiet, much-needed discussion with Alan wouldn’t disrupt her nap.
Jet watched her daughter slumbering, sleeping the untroubled rest of the innocent, and then leaned towards Alan. “How bad is this going to get, Alan?” she whispered.
“I’m not going to lie to you. It’s very bad. You can’t stay here anymore, and we need to find you someplace safe to start over,” he whispered back.
“Until they come for me again.”
He shook his head. “There are no guarantees in life, but I would hope that you can go deep enough so that–”
She cut him off. “That didn’t work this time, did it? How much more off the beaten path can you get than frigging Uruguay? Come on. Had you even heard of it before you came here?”
“Fair point. If we knew how they tracked you, it would make life a lot easier.”
“Agreed. But we don’t. So where does that leave us?”
“All you can do is hide and start over.”
She shook her head. “I’ve been thinking about this. I don’t think it’s that easy. They won’t stop trying to find me if they’ve gotten this far. Which means I’ll always be in danger. And so will Hannah.”
He had nothing to say to that.
“I need to know everything, Alan. What’s this all about?”
“It was a complete surprise to me when they showed up. I was watching you, waiting for a chance to approach you, when I spotted them. I wasn’t sure you were being tailed, but after a couple of days I was positive. I took photos with my phone when I first suspected you were the target and checked them against the Mossad’s data base. One of them came up as a match. The leader. Ivan Slasky. A known Russian mob enforcer, ex-Spetsnaz, for the last two years part of the entourage of our favorite young entrepreneur – Sergei Grigenko. When the response came back and I saw the last name, I knew the shit had hit the fan. That was yesterday evening. I was going to warn you today, but they got to you first.”
“And you’re targeting Grigenko as part of your terrorist mission?”
“Yes. He’s a nasty piece of work, but there are plenty of those. What makes him special is he seems willing to go down the nuclear and bio-weapon road, whereas most won’t touch that. Too risky. Too much heat. But Grigenko seems emboldened now that he’s a billionaire. It seems like the money transformed an ugly piece of human garbage into a monster.”
She twisted and looked at Hannah again, who was deeply asleep, then leaned forward. “I’m going to have to go after Grigenko. That’s the only way we’ll be safe. Same as with his father. I’m not going to live every moment looking over my shoulder, wondering whether today is the day Hannah doesn’t come home because his men got to her,” she said, her voice low, angry.
“I think that’s a terrible idea. He’s got unlimited power and money, and as far as I can tell, he never leaves Moscow. So that would mean tackling him on his home turf, with some of the best security in the world.”
“You know my history. I’ve done much harder and I’m still standing.”
“I know. So have I. But eventually your luck runs out.”
“I don’t think you understand. I’m not asking you for advice or permission. I’m telling you what I’m going to do. I didn’t ask for this, but I’ll finish it. I’m not afraid of whatever he can throw at me, or worried about it.” She sat back and stared at the Peugeot. “He’s as good as dead.”
“What about Hannah? You have a kid now. Whose safety is partially my responsibility. I promised my brother…”
“I appreciate the sentiment, Alan, but you can’t stand guard over her twenty-four hours a day, and neither can I. We lose that battle if we try to fight it. I need someone to look after her while I do this. I’m thinking my housekeeper. She adores her, and it shouldn’t be for very long.”
“They’ll be looking for Hannah, you know. And once you disappear, they’ll be trying to find anyone who might know about you. Which means your housekeeper will be a target, too.”
“Yeah, but I pay her cash, under the table, so there are no records. And she’s not from Montevideo. I think she’s from San Carlos; about seventy miles east of here. Nobody here knows her – she doesn’t talk to the neighbors. The house on
one side of us has been empty since we moved in, and she detests the cleaning woman who works in the other and won’t give her the time of day. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her interact with anyone since she’s been living with us – she keeps to herself. I’ll ask her to go somewhere where she doesn’t know anyone and take Hannah. I can give her enough money that she’ll never have to work again, so I can make a pretty compelling argument. And if something goes wrong…I can leave enough so neither Hannah nor Magdalena will ever want for anything. I’ll get a will drafted.”
“Which brings me to the ten million dollars in that account. I’m sure there’s a story behind it,” Alan commented.
“There is indeed.”
She weighed how much to tell him, and gave him a sanitized and highly abridged version of the adventure with Matt and the diamonds.
“Wow. So you’re rich.”
“Yup. Which will solve a lot of logistical problems. Money may not buy happiness, but it can sure as hell buy a lot of firepower. I can afford to spend the kind of money a country would to take Grigenko out. He picked the wrong enemy with me.”
“I’ll say. But it won’t be easy.”
“Nothing ever is. The question is, will you help me, or do I do this alone?”
“What are the chances I can talk you out of it?”
“Zero.”
“That’s what I thought. Okay. I’m in. What are you thinking?”
She leaned her head back and studied the wisps of clouds outside, and considered his question. What indeed was she thinking?
“I’ll need everything you can get on Grigenko. Habits, girlfriends, home and business blueprints, travel routine, the works. We do this exactly like we were planning a mission, with no shortcuts. If we do it right, we can be in and out before anyone knows he’s dead. And that’ll be the end of the story.”
“Timing?”
“No time like the present.”
“And Hannah?”
“Glad you mentioned that.” She looked at her watch. “I need to talk to someone.”
Jet 03: Vengeance Page 7