by Geri Foster
“Well someone saved the courts a lot of money because he’s dead. And we found Jim slumped over his desk with half his scull blown away.”
“Is there a connection between any of these people?”
“I don’t know,” Harrington said. “I’ve got Zoe running the dead through facial recognition. I will say the alphabet soup been pretty cooperative. Looks to me like Jim bought some guns on the black market. With this kind of set up, he had to have a pretty good buyer. I think the person who purchased the weapons showed up with the truck, found Jim alone, and killed him. Then they kept the money and took off with the guns”
No good could come from a bunch of yahoos driving around with a veritable arsenal. Also, he didn’t think Jim Douglas was even on the ATF’s radar. So, how did some no one contract a major arms deal? Who did he know? And who the hell drove off with a truckload of guns and god only knew what else, and what did they plan to do with them? He figured the Albanians supplied Douglas with the merchandise and probably came to collect their payment. Somewhere along the lines it all went south and people wound up dead.
“Still a lot of questions.”
Tony took the phone from Garrett’s hand. “Do you have an ID on the Albanians yet? Was one of them Sergio Malakoff?”
“Hold on, let me check my notes.”
Tony covered the speaker on the phone, and looked at Garrett. “I know a lot of those Albanians. There’s a serious faction of them in Baltimore. I know that guy. He runs the whole outfit. If he isn’t one of the bodies, he may have some information for us.”
Harrington came back on the line. He rattled off the names of the three Albanians and Sergio wasn’t one of them.
“Okay, Harrington,” Garrett said. “Keep us posted. And find out as much as you can about the truck that may be hauling those weapons.”
“I already have a man on it. One of the kids snooping around said it was a two-ton truck. White with no markings.”
“They identify anyone? Did they see anyone get killed?”
“No, thank God. They’re no more than fifteen years old, they don’t need to see something like that.”
“I agree.”
“They said they saw two men driving the truck and two more in a silver Lexus. This all happened about forty minutes ago.”
“And they couldn’t identify any of the men in the vehicles?” Frank asked.
“No. I managed to get them alone, so I could ask them myself. They didn’t see the people inside the vehicles because all the windows were tinted. I’ll continue working the scene and keep you updated. Out for now.”
Tony looked at Brody and slapped him on the arm. “Come on, let’s take a little trip to Baltimore and knock a few Albanian heads together.”
Brody laughed. “You going to the Damarcus Restaurant?”
“Yeah, Sergio’s going to be happy to see his old friend.”
Brody stopped. “Hey, didn’t you shoot off his little finger?”
“I did, but only after he stabbed me.” Tony tightened his jaw. “I should have killed him.”
“Maybe you’ll still get the chance.”
Tony chuckled. “I bet Sergio was hoping he’d live out the rest of his days and never lay eyes on me again.” He chuckled. “Surprise, surprise.”
Frank stepped up. “Now listen, you two. Get the information we need and report back as soon as you can. This is no time for fun and games. Understood?”
Tony tossed him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”
Haley had taken all the machismo she could stand and she was going to scream if they kept bossing her around. She had no intention of being pawned off and hidden away in some damned CIA safehouse, wondering what the hell was going on. She didn’t care about the CIA or the Capitol police, or anyone else for that matter. She intended to be attached to Garrett’s hip.
“Listen Garrett, and listen good. I’m not leaving, and you can’t make me. If the president is safe, then I am too. Stop with the BS and let’s get on with what we have to do.”
“You don’t understand how dangerous this is. These men are here to probably kill the president. I wouldn’t say he was safe, yet. If you’re with Kate Stone, you’ll be safe. And that’s what I want; it’s what I need. I have a bad feeling that whatever they’re planning, it will all go down here. I don’t want you in the thick of things.”
“He’s right,” Frank’s expression was grim. “This is no place for you. No place for anyone unwilling to put their life on the line.”
She turned to Frank, her shoulders stiff. “I just want to be near him.” She pointed at Garrett. “I feel safer than running off to hide with somebody else.” She looked around. “This place is huge. There’s bound to be a hundred places I could hide.”
Garrett ran his hand through his hair, his frustration obvious. “That’s not the point. It’s very likely this could all go to hell. What if they do hit the White house and they kill the president? I don’t want to chance them taking you again or killing you outright. The best way I can protect you is to get you away from the White House. You have no other choice.”
She balled her fists and stamped her foot. “I’m not leaving. You can’t make me.”
“I can have you arrested,” he quipped with a teasing glint in his eyes. “You can cool your heels in a cell for a few hours. How would you like that?”
Stunned, she turned to Frank. “Can he do that?”
“I think he can.” Frank’s poker face was marred by a quirk of his lips. “Of course, once you’re released, you can file a formal complaint against him,” Frank looked at the president and smiled, “but I don’t think it’ll go very far.”
She had the distinct feeling Frank was verbally manhandling her. She understood they didn’t want anything to happen to her. Hell, she didn’t either, but she felt safest with Garrett. The thought of not being by his side petrified her and she was worried sick he’d be hurt or killed.
His well-being was just as important to her as her own. If possible, she’d like for them to both walk out of this alive. She sat on the sofa, folded her legs Indian style, and crossed her arms. “This is where I’m going to make my stand. If you want me to leave, you’re going to have to physically pick me up and carry me out of the room.”
“That might be fun,” Garrett chuckled. “I can throw you over my shoulder, caveman style.”
“You do that and it might be a very long time before you’re invited back into my bed.”
Chapter Fifteen
Garrett gritted his teeth against Haley’s persistence. Didn’t she understand that being there was a distraction none of them could afford? Danger seemed to circle their perimeter. No one in the room knew what may happen, when it would happen, or how. If Haley was out of harm’s way, he could focus on neutralizing the threat.
He had to give it to her, though. Haley was right about one thing. There were a hundred places in the White House she could hide, a few might actually be more secure than if she were with Kate.
There was a panic room in the basement for the president and high-ranking officials to go should there ever be an outright assault on the White House or Capitol Hill. She could go there. It was impenetrable. Still, getting her there could be problematic. The sheer size of The White House alone made that difficult. The fact he hadn’t made himself as familiar with its lay out as Frank had didn’t help matters. And he refused to ask Frank to be responsible for saving the woman he loved.
“Leave her,” the president winked at her. “Can’t say I blame her, I don’t want to run and hide, either. And you can’t deny we’re as secure here as you can get. It would be a lot easier for them to kidnap Haley on the way to Kate’s than it would right here in this room.”
Haley smiled. Garrett knew she was enjoying this. Hell, the president basically just ordered they allow her to stay. He knew Frank never went against the president, usually a wise decision.
“Fine,” Garrett shrugged, his eyes narrowed. “But if she stays here, she has to do
what she’s told when she’s told. I’m not playing games, and I won’t unnecessarily jeopardize anybody’s life.”
The president cleared his throat. “I would never ask you to. I just think she safer here. And by that, I mean safer for everyone. This way no one has to leave to make sure she gets to Kate safely. They could be waiting for that.”
Frank stuck his hands in his pockets. “He might be right.”
“Tony and Brody just left, anybody worried about them?” Garrett groused.
“Nobody wants to tangle with those two,” Frank said. “If they were seen leaving, the people watching are probably relieved. Two less Falcon agents to deal with.”
The president sat behind his desk. “Okay, it’s settled. Haley stays. She’s with me, I’ll look after her.”
“Whatever you say, sir,” Garrett nodded, unhappy with the outcome.
Garrett still had a gut feeling that, if he was alive, El Hashem could very well be in Washington. If dead, Nagi would take his place. He’d known for years that they would come for him. El Hashem would seek revenge and Garrett had always been ready. His one mistake was never considering they might pull Haley into the mix.
There had to be an American connection. El Hashem couldn’t pull this off without inside help. There was another player they knew nothing about yet, and he had to find that person.
They should’ve considered the possibility all along. He knew how Islamic fundamentalists worked, how they thought, and the hatred that boiled up inside of them until there was nothing left but the burning desire to kill as many infidels as possible before they died.
El Hashem had a personal score to settle, to honor his father’s name. Now, if El Hashem was dead and Nagi was out to avenge his family, where did that leave Garrett? Was there some elaborate scheme to attack the White House, Capitol Hill, or the Pentagon as a way to get to him?
Garrett believed they were out for his blood, something he’d lived with for years, but he also knew that El Hashem’s biggest dream was to punish America. Garrett’s job—hell, every agent’s duty—was to ensure that never happened. He looked at Haley and wondered what the future held for them when this all was over.
He didn’t think they would live happily ever after. Yes, they loved each other, but living together? That was a tough call. He was a Falcon agent and had no intention of quitting. He wasn’t just being stubborn; this was his life’s work. As much as he loved Haley, he couldn’t give up what he loved doing.
Besides, he’d be miserable and an unfit boyfriend or husband...for anyone.
Janice made her way across the office, her eyes focused on Derek. Perhaps he held the key to everything she needed to know. If so, she intended to find out, today. She walked around his cubicle, then perched a hip on the corner of his desk, making sure he had a perfect view of her shapely legs.
“Hi, Derek,” she casually swung her foot. “The boss sure didn’t stick around long today.”
Derek had a deer in headlights look, no doubt surprised she bothered to give him the time of day. “Yes...um...yeah. Um, he had an errand to run.”
Janice leaned forward a little, giving him a glimpse of her cleavage. “An errand? Doing what?” She studied her perfectly manicured nails. “He usually comes by in the morning and says hello.”
“Well, he, uh, likes you.” Derek turned back to his computer. “He goes for days without speaking to me.”
The green monster reared his head. No doubt, before she showed up Derek got most of Preston’s attention. Maybe all the time they spent together rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe he even harbored a certain amount of anger, or perhaps jealousy. Janice didn’t care, she just wanted the truth.
“So, when’s he coming back?”
Derek shook his head and shrugged, his back still to her. “No idea.” He glanced up with a snarl on his face. “If he didn’t say anything to you, what makes you think he talked to me?”
“Well, everybody knows you’re his right-hand man. You’re his second in command. His confidant.”
Derek looked up at her, his face bland, her flattery wasted. “Got nothing for you, Janice. Whatever the boss is up to is his own business. If you’re prowling around for information, you came to the wrong desk.” He turned back to his computer. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do and so do you.”
Not one to give up easily, Janice came closer and shoved his keyboard aside. When he looked up at her, she gave him her biggest smile. “I thought you liked me, Derek?” She reached out and touched his collar. “I’m sure we can become friends.”
He chuckled harshly. “You and me friends? Who are you trying to kid?” He scooted his chair back, well out of her reach. “I’ve known since the day you stepped foot in this office you weren’t just an accountant. I don’t know who you work for and I don’t care, but Mr. McCoy is my boss and he’s been good to me. I’m not telling you a thing.” He pointed across the room. “I suggest you go to your office and get back to work. I’d hate to see you fired.”
Fighting the urge to kick him off his high horse, Janice stood, straightened her skirt, stuck her nose in the air, and marched back to her office, where she turned and promptly shut the door. “Stupid little prick.” She slumped in her chair. “He has no idea the trouble he’s in. Maybe it won’t be long until he finds out.”
She picked up her phone just as the door to her office opened. She immediately hung up and smiled. “Good morning, Harry, what can I do for you?”
Harry oversaw personnel, though from what she saw he spent most of his time on his computer, trolling for porn. He was a square built man, maybe five seven, or eight if he was lucky. He weighed a good hundred and eighty pounds and should really consider putting their great dental plan to work.
“Oh, I think I can do a lot for you.” He smiled down at her, his crooked teeth glinting. “And in return you can do a lot for me.”
Nagi stood aside as the weapon-laden truck pulled into the warehouse. One of Preston’s men pulled down the overhead door and securely latched it. They had enough ammunition, guns, grenades, C-4, and rockets they could easily take down the White House.
Still, Nagi didn’t like not knowing what to expect. At this point, he knew absolutely nothing except they were well armed. He had no idea who or what the target was, nor if any plans were in place for them to escape.
Preston walked over to him and brushed his hands together. “That’s a pretty good haul, don’t you think, Nagi?”
He nodded. “I’m very impressed. But I must ask, what do you intend to do with them?”
Preston looked at him strangely. “I’m going to kill the President of the United States and blow up the White House. What do you think?”
Nagi moved further into the building, watching the men move the weapons into the back of three, white, nondescript box trucks. “I think I want to know how you intend to do this. What exactly is the plan?” He gestured at the trucks. “I don’t think we can just drive these through the front gate, then jump out and start shooting. The White House is the most heavily guarded place in America. We’d be foolish to take that lightly.”
Preston took him by the shoulders and shook him lightly. “I am finishing the task Allah gave my brother.” He released him and turned his back. “You think I have not thought this out carefully? That I do not have everything in place? That I can’t be trusted?”
Nagi shook his head and held out his hands pleadingly. “It is not I who does not trust. You have shared so little with me I wonder where my place is. What’s my part in all this? I think it is you who does not trust.”
Preston turned to look at him, his eyes sharp. “I know your heart, Nagi. You only want one thing—to hurt America.” He thumped his chest. “While I, on the other hand, have a well thought out and organized plot to destroy her. I know exactly what I want to do and how to do it. Unlike you, who simply wants to make a name for himself, I am guided to bring praise and glory to Allah and my father’s house. You wish to become a martyr, with your
name on other terrorists’ lips.”
“What you say is true. It was my true desire to join ISIS in the war against the infidels. Know this, I promised El Hashem I would see this mission through. I swore he could trust that, no matter what, I would see Allah’s wishes carried out.”
Preston studied him for a long time, as if evaluating his sincerity, then nodded his head. “Follow me.”
Without waiting, Preston walked toward the back of the warehouse. Nagi had no idea what was in store for him. For all he knew Preston planned to kill him and leave his body to rot.
Off to one side, in the far corner of the warehouse, sat a small workshop with a desk that was encased by windows. Everyone could see inside. It was a trashy looking place, very similar to Jim Douglas’s office but without the dead bodies.
Preston went behind the desk and sat in the shabby chair with more duct tape on it than leather. He looked out of place in his expensive suit, his clean-shaven face, and stylish hair.
On the desk, a model of the White House covered most of the top. Nagi recognized it immediately and wondered how he had received such a perfectly scaled replica. Preston pointed to the south portico. “I have a man waiting here to open the door when I call.”
How powerful Preston must be to have a man in such a trusted position. That must have been difficult, especially in a place surrounded by the Secret Service and the FBI, even clerks were on the lookout for unusual activities. Yes, Nagi was impressed.
They had a way into the White House.
“You’ve done a very good job, Preston.” He patted him on the back. “Your brother would be very proud.”
Preston batted back tears. “Yes, he would. It hurts my heart that he is not alive to see it.”
“By killing the president, you will impress the nation of Islam. We certainly will be martyrs. You and I both.”
“That is not my wish.”
Nagi looked at him with uncertainty. “Your plan is to kill the President of the United States, is it not?”