Knife Point

by Jim Heskett

  “It’s fine. We’re still going to find him. Let’s get our teammates and figure out what to do next.”

  41

  Harry was surprised to learn Serena had a van with peeling paint and bald tires sitting in the parking lot of the Super 8. When she pulled back the side door, Harry peered inside to see a collection of equipment. A desk with computer gear and surveillance gear built into the wall. Monitors, satellite feeds, most of the same stuff he had at home.

  “You have a van?” Harry asked, raising his voice over the escalating sound of approaching sirens.

  “I know some people who owed me a favor. Thought we might need it.”

  “Good thinking.”

  She jerked her head toward it. “Get in. We don’t want gawking civvies to take out their phones and start snapping pictures.”

  “Aren’t we going to wait for the cops?”

  “No, Harry. Get in, please.”

  “Okay, okay.” Harry shuffled in, and she slammed the rolling door behind him. He buckled himself into the seat at the workstation and checked a Post-It note attached to a monitor with the system password written on it. Not the best security, but expedient.

  Serena climbed into the front. As she did, she started the vehicle and pulled her phone out of her pocket, reading something on the screen. “Bingo. Layne has Jonah, and they’re ready to meet up.”

  Harry’s heartbeat still hadn’t lessened its rapid-fire mode since the attack in the motel room. But, Serena wasn’t the type to take an extended rest to reflect on things. She revved the engine, and the hulking van rumbled in place. Not the smooth ride of something late-model. No, this was government-issue, so it was probably on its last legs.

  “Thank you,” Harry said, shouting over the roar of the van’s engine.

  “For what?”

  “For not letting that woman murder me, I guess. You know, because I had a feeling she was going to… murder me.”

  Serena nodded. “I got your back, K-Books. That’s how this works.” Her face changed, and she pivoted in the bucket seat to face him. “This Jonah Bramble guy, you worked closely with him?”

  “Yeah, for a few years.”

  “Do you think he can be trusted?”

  Harry frowned, searching Serena’s face for her intent. “When he was active, for sure. Thorny was a good shadow, efficient, clean. He had a few bad months before he retired, you know, leading up to the New Orleans op. He told off Daphne pretty good when he got back to Washington after, and then disappeared the next day.”

  “Isn’t that strange?”

  Harry shrugged. “Actually, no. I’ve seen more than a couple people from the team quit in a huff like that. Layne himself resigned with no warning only about a week later. You know how Daphne can be. Honesty and disclosure aren’t two of her main qualities. It rubs a lot of shadows the wrong way, eventually.”

  “I could see that.”

  “Not all of them leave with as much fanfare as Jonah, but I wouldn’t call it strange.”

  “Control thinks he’s hiding something. She asked me to assess the situation.”

  Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek. A slew of thoughts ran through his brain. Yes, Jonah was definitely hiding something. Not the least of which was his status as Cameron Parrish’s biological father, a fact Harry was sure Layne didn’t know. Also, a fact Harry didn’t know if he would be able to keep from Layne, or if he even should.

  And then, there was the last day of the New Orleans op. After they’d entered the apartment complex behind the bar to track Satori Watanabe, Jonah and Layne had both cut their comms. Deliberately. Whatever had happened in there after, neither of them wanted Harry to know about it, and they hadn’t mentioned the comms lapse in their debriefings.

  Harry had tried to forget about those few minutes of dead air because he trusted Layne enough never to question him. But Jonah, though? As Serena stared at him, Harry had to ask himself if he did indeed trust Jonah.

  “Are you thinking he’s been turned?”

  Serena tilted her head back and forth. “I don’t know. Control has given me authority in the field to take whatever action I think is necessary.”

  “Well, then I guess you’re going to do what you’re going to do. I can’t comment one way or the other, except to say that, at one time, I would’ve trusted Jonah with my life.”

  She nodded, turned to face the front, and slipped on her sunglasses. “Copy that. I appreciate your honest input. Let’s get out of here.”

  They took off, and Harry sat back, unsure of what to think. Juggling secrets wasn’t his strong suit. He was much more comfortable with being given a task and told how and when to do it. The hard decisions made him feel bloated and dizzy.

  Five minutes later, Harry saw Layne’s rental in the parking lot of a drugstore. Jonah in the passenger seat of the car, his eyes fixed on a point far away in the distance. He had red welts around his neck as if he’d tried to hang himself and hadn’t succeeded. But, his shoulders rose and fell. Still alive. Not quite conscious, but his eyes were open.

  Layne sat in the driver’s seat, and Harry felt a pang of guilt already for what he knew. The truth about Jonah and Cameron. Whatever happened, Harry told himself, now was not the time to bring it up. If they all survived the day, then that would be a decision he’d have to make.

  They all exited their two vehicles, with Jonah following up last. He was beaten and bruised, moving slow. Layne looked like he’d taken a few lumps as well, with a black eye and bruised knuckles. Whatever had happened in the last few hours, they both looked lucky to be alive.

  “Rough day,” Harry said.

  Layne nodded. “Still breathing, so it could’ve been worse.”

  “What’s the plan?” Serena asked.

  “Farhad is on the loose, and he’s going to meet up with his bosses soon. We need to put our heads together and figure out where that could be. The Hillcrest helicopter rendezvous was most likely a trap, so it wasn’t ever the real landing zone.”

  “I know,” Jonah said, his voice strained and tentative as his eyes grew wider. He looked like he had woken up from a long sleep. “I remember now.”

  Layne turned around as Jonah sat on the hood of the rental, with slumped shoulders, wheezing as he breathed.

  “What?” Layne asked.

  “I said I know where Farhad is going.”

  INTERLUDE #5

  New Orleans, LA | Six Years Ago

  Layne sneaks around to the fire escape while Jonah waits at the front door of the brick building. They’re so close to finding Satori Watanabe, Layne can feel it in his bones. This man who has eluded them all over New Orleans. This man who has seemed like a mirage in the desert.

  Layne knows it’s going to end tonight. In the next few minutes, most likely. He doesn’t know how it’s going to end, but he knows it will.

  “What do you have on heat signatures?” Layne asks, his hand cupped over the Bluetooth in his ear.

  “Of the twelve apartments,” Harry says into his earpiece, “I’m reading movement in only two. Plus there’s someone going up the stairs right now.”

  “That’s our guy,” Jonah says over the comm link.

  “Let me know when he stops,” Layne says.

  “Copy,” Harry says. “Stand by. He’s still on the stairs.”

  “How’s the weather in Virginia?” Jonah asks.

  Harry clears his throat. “Messing with my allergies, just like it always is. Okay, wait a second. He’s on the third floor. Going into an apartment in the northwest corner.”

  “Roger that,” Layne says, and ascends the fire escape toward the roof. “Thorny, keep an eye out for traps left behind. This guy will not make it easy on us.”

  “On it,” Jonah says.

  At the top of the fire escape, Layne climbs up onto the roof. He skitters across a gummy tar surface to the other side of the building. Up above the top floor, he can hear the muted trumpets and drums from the jazz band playing inside the Funky Butt bar acro
ss the street. The air is thick, like it’s about to rain.

  Layne stops at the northwest corner and checks the fire escape down on that side. It’s rusted, broken in places, not suitable to descend. “Thorny, talk to me.”

  Jonah grunts. “I feel like, after all the horseshit we went through to find this guy, it could have been a lot easier. Daphne could have worked with someone local to help us narrow down our search.”

  “We’re doing the best we can,” Harry says.

  “It’s not you, K-Books,” Jonah says. “It’s her. Always some little game she’s playing, making sure we never really have all the facts.”

  Layne holds his tongue. Jonah has been nothing but dark and mouthy lately, especially when it comes to the topic of Daphne Kurek and how the team functions. For someone who has already declared his intent to retire, he seems determined to make sure everyone appreciates how bitter he is on his way out.

  “She’s got us up here, sweating like a whore in church, and—”

  “Enough,” Layne says. “Focus, man. Stow that shit until later.”

  “Okay, okay,” Jonah says. “I’m going inside now and will be headed up the stairs on the north side. Based on the numbering, I think he’s in apartment 34. The steps are wooden and pretty janky-looking, so I’m going to take my time to avoid too much creaking.”

  “I don’t have a clear way to enter the back of his apartment, so I'll have to climb down the storm drain to the balcony on the third floor.”

  “Careful,” Harry says. “I see some weather headed your way.”

  Layne feels drops on his head, then he turns up a palm and catches one. “It’s already here. Don’t worry, I can do this.”

  “Not a good idea,” Harry says.

  “We don’t have time to debate it.”

  Layne stows his pistol in his waistband and lowers himself over the edge of the roof. He latches his ankles around the metal storm drain and puts a little of his weight on it to test it. It creaks, but seems sturdy enough. Harry’s right. It’s not a good idea, but he doesn’t have a better one.

  “I’m en route,” Layne says as he transfers all of his weight to the storm drain. He shifts his hands down first before his ankles, making sure he’s got a solid grip. The rain now falls in sheets, but as long as he keeps up a steady pace, it shouldn’t become too slick. He has to be fast, but it’s doable.

  Layne moves down from the roof, past the fourth floor, and then the third floor. It’s within sight. There’s a small balcony landing outside the window, large enough for a person to stand, as long as that person doesn’t need to move around too much.

  Layne holds above it, checking the shadows. “I’m about to drop down, Jonah. Be ready.”

  “Loud and clear. I’m outside the door, ready to go. Waiting for your signal.”

  Layne looks down and sees the window is open. If Satori is looking this way, he’ll certainly see feet touching down on the balcony railing. All he has to do is reach out and shove Layne’s feet, then he goes tumbling down three stories. No, the best way to breach is to enter in one quick motion. Let go of the storm drain and swing in, feet first.

  The rain is coming down hard now. Layne can’t hold on much longer. Time to go.

  “Coming in hot,” Layne says. He lets go and feels himself free-falling through the air, but only for a moment. He kicks his legs forward, moving his arms back to angle his body and not bang his head on the exterior wall.

  His feet slide through the window, and Layne can feel the difference in temperature immediately, before his body is even halfway inside.

  A bullet cracks the silence. It whiffs to the right. Layne’s upper half comes through, and he sees a short and thin Asian man standing in the kitchen with all the lights off. He has a revolver raised, pointed in Layne’s direction.

  It’s him. Definitely him.

  Satori closes one eye to aim again, and Jonah comes crashing through the door behind him. In the time it takes Satori to turn around and check, Layne crosses the ten feet between them. He makes a fist and swings at the hand holding the revolver.

  Satori jerks his hand away, but now his body is off balance. Layne clocks him with a left hook, making him twist. Now, Jonah is two feet away, bringing his arm level with his eyes. He triggers the stun gun, the dart making the room light up as it sinks into Satori’s neck.

  The target jiggles and falls to the floor, writhing.

  “Guys?” Harry says. “Was that a gunshot?”

  Layne blinks a few times. “Roger, K-Books. We’re okay, but the target did get off a shot first.”

  “Better make it fast,” Harry says.

  Jonah kneels down and takes a syringe from his pocket. He yanks out the stun gun dart and slips the syringe into Satori’s neck. A few seconds later, the man’s muscles seize, then relax, then he finally stops moving.

  Jonah turns Satori’s face, frowning down as he examines it. “Damn it, did you have to punch him in the face?”

  “I was trying to get the gun away from him. He already pulled the trigger. I was focused more on not getting shot than keeping his face free of bruises.”

  “We’ll have to make it look like a robbery. Lickety-split.” Jonah stands up and holsters the stun gun. “Harry, how many others did you say are in the building right now?”

  “Two.”

  “Any movement on them?”

  “Not that I can see.”

  “They could still call the cops,” Layne says as he and Jonah share a look.

  “Come on. Let’s hurry.”

  Jonah exits the room and Layne gets to work in the kitchen. He dons latex gloves and then opens cupboards and cabinets, moving objects around, rifling through them. He works as quickly as possible. That gunshot was loud enough to attract attention from the next building over.

  “I call dibs on any sex toys he has lying around,” Jonah says from the other room.

  “Be my guest.”

  “Whoa,” Jonah says, not directly to Layne, but loud enough Layne can hear him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Layne looks in the direction of the bedroom, but he can’t see Jonah from here. “Say again?”

  “Boy Scout. You need to come see this.”

  Layne puts a hand on his gun but does not draw it. He leaves the kitchen and joins Jonah in the back bedroom, where he is standing over a suitcase. Hands on the side of his head, staring down at it, almost in shock.

  “Harry,” Jonah says into his ear as he lowers his hands. “We need to cut off comms for a moment.”

  “Wait a second,” Harry says. “You’re not supposed to—”

  Jonah pulls the Bluetooth out of Layne’s ear and thumbs the button to turn it off, disconnecting the call to Harry. He’s shaking, licking his lips as his shoulders pump up and down.

  “Why did you do that?” Layne asks.

  “You’re not going to believe what’s in this suitcase.”

  42

  Layne joined everyone else as their eyes pivoted toward Jonah, sitting on the hood of the car. He was still dazed, broken and bruised, his eyes barely open. “I remember now.”

  “How do you know where Farhad is going?” Layne asked.

  Jonah cleared his throat. “In the car. He thought I was passed out, but I’ve developed a tolerance to that damn narcotic he’s been giving me. I only heard his part of the phone conversation. It was enough. There are a couple of Iranians inbound with a helicopter. Farhad changed the meeting spot from the Hillcrest roof to a spot about a half-mile east of Shasta Dam. He didn’t give exact coordinates, but I have a pretty good notion of where we’ll stumble on it.”

  “What’s in the helicopter?” Serena asked.

  “Poison. He’s going to poison the lake, then blow the dam to shit. The goal the whole time was to poison the Sacramento River. They do this first, then his two bosses launch attacks in other parts of the country, but only after they do Redding first.”

  “Holy cow,” Harry said. “That river provides a huge chunk
of California’s drinking water, doesn’t it?”

  Jonah nodded. “I don’t think we have time to list all of the ways we’d be up the creek without a paddle if he pulls this off. But, if we stop them today, it's all over.”

  Layne tried to think it through. “Okay, so they land the helicopter, and give him the explosives and the poison? Then, he plants the explosives inside or around the dam, then back to the chopper. Then, most likely, the poison is air dropped from the chopper into the lake.”

  “I didn’t catch them saying that specifically, but it makes the most sense. That gives us a window where the chopper should be accessible. Maybe after he gets the explosives, but before he can get back to the chopper to take off.”

  “How sure of this are you?” Serena asked, with her eyes narrowed at Jonah.

  “Hundred percent,” he said. “I know what I heard.”

  She pointed her feet toward him while keeping her arms folded across her chest. Layne certainly did not miss out on what her body language was saying.

  “Because you’re asking us to make all these plans around something you heard while you were high.”

  Jonah looked at her, first with disbelief, then with irritation. “Not high. Drugged.”

  “I don’t see the difference,” she said. “What if you dreamed all of it? What if it’s a mashup of different things you heard over the last few months while you were under hypnosis, and you’re putting random ideas together, thinking it’s connected?”

  “Serena,” Layne said, his tone edging on confrontational.

  “What? I’m just doing my due diligence. He’s asking us to sacrifice valuable time to explore this lead, when Farhad could be at a high school on the other side of town, putting bombs under the bleachers at a pep rally.”

  Jonah, now more awake and standing upright, seethed at her. “Listen, sweetheart, you can think whatever you want. I know what I heard.”