by Kathy Herman
t
Hawk put on his blue-and-yellow Angel View staff T-shirt and tucked it into his khaki shorts. He placed the matching cap on his head and put his cell phone on his belt clip.
He heard feet on the stairs and turned to the door in time to see his mother, Elliot, and Grandpa Buck peering in at him.
“We want to pray with you before Connor picks you up,” Kate said. “Why don’t you sit on the bed with me?”
Hawk plopped down on the bed, acting lighthearted, but feeling as if he might lose his breakfast.
His mother sat next to him and linked arms. Elliot and Grandpa stood facing him, each with a hand on his shoulder.
“Lord,” Kate said, “we have come before You many times as a family asking for Your protection. But not until now have I truly believed that You will answer our prayers according to Your perfect will, and that You will give me, and all of us, the grace to accept the outcome from Your loving hands. Lord, I put my firstborn in Your care …” Kate’s voice failed. She let her head rest on Hawk’s shoulder, then continued, “You love him even more than we do, and that’s all I really need to know. I ask that You calm Hawk’s nerves. Yes, Lord, the queasy stomach he’s trying so hard to hide from us. What he’s agreed to do for the FBI is unselfish and important. I pray that You would reward his bravery by enabling this operation to succeed in getting the bounty hunter out of commission so that Kennedy Taylor will be safe and can live her life in peace. And that Hawk will come home to us unharmed. We love him so much …”
Elliot started praying, but Hawk didn’t hear the words. He was completely stunned that his mother had prayed out loud—and in such a touching manner. And that she referred to Kennedy by her name and not the code word Nameless. That she had put her head on his shoulder when no words would come out. He couldn’t remember feeling closer to his mother than he did at this moment.
Hawk was aware of Grandpa Buck praying and hands pressing his shoulders.
“Father, we’re so grateful for Your love,” Buck said. “And how You’ve wrapped your arms around this family over and over again. We trust You with Hawk’s life and pray that he would handle himself today with honor befitting a child of the King. In Jesus’s name we pray. Amen.”
Hawk blinked to clear his eyes, aware that the grandfather clock in the downstairs hallway had chimed nine times.
“I guess it’s time.” Hawk smiled at his mother. “By the way, what’s for dinner?”
“Swiss steak, brown potatoes, and asparagus. Strawberry shortcake for dessert. Dinner will be ready at six.” Kate put her arms around him. “But we’re not going to eat until you come home.”
t
Virgil leaned against the back wall of the FBI command center, feeling conspicuous in his khaki sheriff’s uniform and wide-brimmed hat amid a sea of dark blue shirts with the yellow FBI logo.
The command center was much larger than he had anticipated but was easily concealed behind the barn on the Jameson farm. The mobile unit, the size of an eighteen wheeler, was equipped on both sides with a long, narrow built-in desk unit accommodating six laptops, each placed about two and a half feet apart. But the double row of overhead monitors showing Angel View from nearly every angle was enviable. He could see that Abby was working at Flutter’s. Jesse was doing some kind of demonstration with hummingbirds. Hawk was outside down by the gazebo, talking with two special agents dressed as landscapers. Other monitors showed detailed images of the inside of the café, the front desk, and the big cedar deck on the backside of Angel View. It was really quite impressive.
He hated that he felt like an outsider—which he clearly was, despite Romo’s pretense of inclusion. At least most agents made eye contact and didn’t pass him by as if he didn’t exist.
“Hey, Sheriff.” Romo put his cell phone in his suit pocket and walked over to him. “What do you think of our new mobile command center?”
Virgil smiled. “Not too shabby.”
“It was designed to provide a state-of-the-art communications platform—telephone, Wi-Fi, satellite, and video teleconferencing capabilities as well as a fully integrated VoIP redundant radio system—which gives us full duplex communications interoperability for the fire department, city, county, and state police departments.”
Virgil arched his eyebrows. “Uncle Sam obviously didn’t skimp on quality.”
“The surveillance system allows us to monitor high-traffic areas of the lodge, indoors and out. Right now, we’ve got eyes on all three Cummings siblings and whoever they come in contact with. That’s where our facial recognition feature is invaluable. And in case you were wondering, that monitor up on the top right is showing the Angel View grounds from the drone.”
Virgil tried not to react to Romo’s patronizing tone. “Looks like you’ve thought of everything.”
“Of course we have.” Romo slapped him on the back. “That’s what the FBI does, Sheriff.”
Virgil looked up, his neck burning under his collar, and wished he could slap the arrogant smile off Romo’s face. “Speaking of what the FBI does. Just to be clear, is it your policy to mislead the people who stick their necks out to help you?”
“Pardon me?”
“I’m just wondering why you didn’t tell Hawk that bringing in the bounty hunter unharmed was your primary objective,” Virgil said, “and that keeping him safe was optional.”
“Whoa, Sheriff. That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”
“Is it? Was Hawk informed that his death would be considered acceptable collateral damage?”
Romo made a sweeping motion with this hand. “Take a look at all this top-notch equipment. We’re utilizing every means we possibly can to keep Hawk safe.”
“I don’t dispute that,” Virgil said. “But that kid agreed to help you, believing that his safety was your utmost concern.”
“I told Hawk we will do everything in our power to keep him safe, and that’s the truth.”
Virgil chewed his lip. “And you don’t think you were being disingenuous by letting Hawk believe the two of you were on the same page?”
“Are you judging me? Need I remind you, Sheriff, that it’s not your call? I’ve been given a job to do. I’m doing it the best way I know how.”
“Then you should be ashamed.”
Romo came a step closer, his red face a striking contrast to his black suit. “I suggest you watch your mouth. You’re a guest in my command center. I welcome your support. But if you try and interfere with this operation, there will be severe consequences coming from powerful people way above my pay grade.”
Chapter 16
Virgil drove back to town, mad at himself for letting Romo push his buttons, but not a bit sorry for shaming him for misleading Hawk. The kid deserved to understand the extent of the risk he was taking before he made the choice. And Romo knew a lot more than he was letting on.
Virgil’s burner phone beeped. He pulled into a medical plaza and parked in the back row under a shade tree.
He read the text message: Four attachments.
Virgil clicked on a photo and tapped the screen to enlarge it. It was a picture of a forty-something man and a young girl, perhaps fifteen or sixteen years old. The man was nice looking. Reminded him of the Ivy League type. Dark hair, just a tad long, dark suit, and glasses. The young girl was beautiful. Her dark hair covered her shoulders, her eyes were soft and innocent.
He clicked on the document and made it larger. It was something from Tehran, dated August 16, 2011. Probably written in Farsi. He scrolled to the bottom and saw the English translation. Some of the words had been redacted. Virgil scanned the document until he found something that made sense and didn’t have any text blacked out. It appeared to be taken from a news article.
Renowned nuclear physicist Dr. Dalir Parviz Kermani (46) and daughter Abrisham Kermani (16) were special guests at a banquet held Saturday night at Tehran
’s elegant Parsian Esteghlal Hotel, honoring Kermani’s twenty years of service to the Iranian government and his recent promotion to a top-level position in the nuclear program.
Dr. Kermani has a master’s degree from Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA, and a PhD in nuclear physics from the University of Manchester, Manchester, UK. His vast knowledge of nuclear physics has made him a leader in the research and development of nuclear power plants in Iran.
Carolyn Morrison Kermani, Dr. Kermani’s late wife, was killed tragically in an automobile accident in February of this year while visiting relatives in Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA.
Dr. Kermani’s new position will require traveling extensively for the Iranian government as part of his involvement in advancing the use of nuclear power in Iran. His daughter Abrisham will continue her education at the Baumar International Girls School in Cambridge, Massachusetts, USA.
Virgil looked at the picture again. If this was supposed to be Dr. Kermani, he didn’t look Middle Eastern.
Virgil googled “images of Iranian men,” and a screen came up showing dozens of images. None of their features resembled Dr. Kermani. Virgil remembered that Iranians are primarily of Persian descent. He googled “images of Persian men.” Some of them were fair skinned. Some had lighter hair. Many could be mistaken for Westerners. Dr. Kermani easily could. Virgil looked at the daughter. She was stunning. But he didn’t see any distinguishing ethnic feature. She could easily pass for a Westerner too. Then again, her mother was American.
So who were they? He tried to put seven years on the man, but no one came to mind. He put seven years on the daughter, but all he got was a twenty-three-year-old beauty. Ah, the age Kennedy Taylor claimed to be! Hawk had talked about how gorgeous she was. Could this be her?
He clicked on the third attachment. It appeared to be a bounty posting of some kind. The wording was French. He scrolled to the bottom for the translation. It was a classified document of the United States government, posted March 2017. Parts of it had been redacted. From what he could tell, someone was offering a $500,000 bounty for the arrest and/or return of Herbod Abbas Jalili, age thirty-nine, citizen of Iran and hired assassin working for the government of Iran and possibly others. Last known residence, Paris, France. Believed responsible for the assassinations of at least thirty government officials and family members across Europe and the Middle East. The contact name and information had been redacted.
He clicked on the fourth attachment, another photograph. A man about forty, dark hair, dark eyes, looked Middle Eastern. So was this guy Herbod Abbas Jalili the bounty hunter Romo told them about? The post referred to him as an assassin. With a bounty on his own head.
Virgil keyed in Mitch’s number and let it ring. Maybe a little explanation from Mitch would clear things up.
“Hey. Where are you?” Mitch said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“In my squad car. I was coming back from the FBI command center when I heard your text come in. I’m sitting here in a medical plaza parking lot, looking at the four attachments you sent, not sure if I’m right about who these people are. Can you talk?”
“For a couple minutes,” Mitch said. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking the first picture is of Dr. Kermani and his daughter Abrisham—goes with the article. Am I close?”
“Spot on.”
“I’m still trying to make sense of the bounty document and the second photograph. Romo said the Bureau is after the bounty hunter who is tracking Nameless, aka Kennedy Taylor, now positively identified as Abrisham Kermani.”
“That’s right.”
“But this document puts a bounty on an Iranian assassin,” Virgil said. “What am I missing?”
“Just that Romo’s reference to him as the bounty hunter sounds better than calling him an assassin, which would probably make Hawk think twice about getting involved. Look, I couldn’t send you everything I saw, but our intel from the CIA confirms this Jalili is on a mission for the Iranian government, who offered him five million dollars to take out someone.”
“Abrisham?”
“That’s my guess,” Mitch said.
“Why would they want to kill her? Man, this thing’s making my head spin.”
“Okay, here’s my two cents. I’m going to give it to you straight, and after this you’re on your own. It’s too risky for me to dig any further.”
“Okay, go,” Virgil said.
“This is only my theory. All right, say Dr. Kermani meets Carolyn Morrison, an American woman, while he’s going to school at MIT, and eventually marries her. They leave Cambridge and move to Tehran, and he works for the government’s nuclear power plant program. In 1994, they have a daughter, Abrisham. He continues working in research and development of nuclear power plants. But did you notice when Carolyn Morrison had her tragic accident? In February of 2011. In August of 2011, Dr. Kermani was honored for his twenty years of service to the Iranian government and his new top-level position in their nuclear program.”
“Are you saying they killed his wife to force him to get more deeply involved in the nuclear program?”
“Makes sense.”
“But why are they after his daughter?” Virgil said. “If he’s doing what they want?”
“Maybe he isn’t. If I were Dr. Kermani,” Mitch said, “and hated the Iranian government for killing my wife and forcing me to build a nuclear bomb, especially if I found it to be morally repugnant, I would turn in a heartbeat—and work with the US to stop Iran. He’s in a perfect position to work as a double agent. What better way for him to get back at the Iranian government. My guess is that Dr. Kermani got caught giving the US classified information on Iran’s nuclear program and went into hiding. He would’ve contacted the CIA and told them he’d been compromised and feared for his daughter’s life. They would have enlisted the FBI’s help to pick up the daughter and keep her under the radar.”
“Pick up the daughter?” Virgil said. “You’re suggesting the FBI might have used a drone to knock her out, and then whisked her away without a trace?”
“It’s not out of the realm of possibility.”
“So, is she under the radar,” Virgil said, “or is she dead, as Romo claims?”
“I can’t answer that. But if she is dead, they would definitely want to keep it under wraps because our intel indicates the assassin Jalili, whose picture is the fourth attachment, is actively tracking her down, and on his way to find Hawk. This guy’s wanted all over Europe and the Middle East. They’re not going to let him slip through their fingers.”
“No matter who they use to get him,” Virgil said.
Mitch sighed. “Sorry, buddy. I know that’s a lot to set on your shoulders when you don’t have the authority to do anything about it. But at least now you know.”
“Thanks, Mitch. I really had no right to ask you to divulge classified information.”
“What classified information?”
Virgil smiled. “Yeah. Right.”
“Don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t. Take care.”
Virgil blew out a breath and rubbed his eyes. This was even more complicated than he’d imagined. No wonder Romo wanted him to back off. Hard to say what kind of pressure was being put on him to get this assassin. Still, it was wrong to lead Hawk to believe his safety was their utmost concern when actually it was their least.
Chapter 17
Hawk pulled off his cap and wiped the sweat from his forehead. The sun was directly above him, and his stomach was making gurgling sounds. He put his cap back on and looked down at Special Agent Gary Barron, who was down on his hands and knees, measuring a section of ground.
“You’re really into this playacting,” Hawk said.
Barron smiled. “I wanted to be a landscaper before I wanted to join the FBI. I love this stuff. I’
m not exactly playacting. I’m really going to design a new landscaping project, just for the fun of it. How’s that for playing the part?”
“If the FBI gave Oscars, I’d nominate you right now.” Hawk noticed Abby motioning him from the door to Flutter’s. “My sister’s trying to get my attention. I’ll be right back.”
“Not so fast,” Special Agent Ryan Ziegler said. “We don’t want you that far from at least one of us until we have eyes on the bounty hunter. I’ll come with you.”
Hawk jogged over to Abby, Ziegler on his heels. “What’s up?”
“Benson made lunch. You want to eat up here under the umbrella. Or out on the lawn?”
Hawk looked at Ziegler. “What do you think?”
“A landscaper would probably grab a bite and eat on the ground, under a shade tree.”
Hawk looked at Abby. “That’s what we’ll do.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back,” she said.
“Your sister’s pretty,” Ziegler said. “I’ve always loved auburn hair.”
Hawk smiled. “Down boy. She’s engaged.”
“Of course she is.” Ziegler rolled his eyes. “The good ones always are.”
“So what do you do when you’re not working?” Hawk said.
“I don’t know. I’m never not working. I love this job.”
Hawk laughed. “I hope you do because no woman is going to go for that setup.”
“I know,” Ziegler said. “Don’t remind me.”
“So what were you looking at while you were talking to me?” Hawk said.
“Nothing really. It’s just a habit to observe my surroundings.”
“Like what?” Hawk said.
“Oh, I noticed that guy sitting by himself at the umbrella table in the back of the deck. He wasn’t having lunch, just something to drink.”
“Maybe he was waiting on his order,” Hawk said.
Ziegler grinned. “Then y’all better work on your customer service, because he’s been there for fifty minutes. Don’t worry, I notified the command center fifteen minutes go. They’ve got eyes on him. See that big oak tree straight ahead? I noticed a drone flying just a few feet above it while we were talking. No worries, it was ours. And see that boy in the red shorts standing on the pier? When the other kid was reeling in his fish, the kid in the red shorts stole something out of his back pocket and threw it in the water.”