The Vanishing Angle

by Linda Ladd

  Sokolov feigned hurt. “I thought we were friends after I got you out of that hospital.”

  “Quit assuming things like that.”

  Sokolov looked back at Novak. “Your woman is a smartass.”

  Novak ignored that. “So now we can sit right here, watch the transfer via these trackers, and know when they’ll start transporting it up the Atlantic Coast.”

  “Exactly. And you’re welcome.”

  Novak liked that idea, because it meant they could watch for the first transfer to a smaller boat right here in Key West, and follow it to its next drop. That’s how they could get photographic evidence. They needed to find a way to follow the courier families back to their safe houses. If they could get that information to law enforcement, a full-fledged takedown would be easy to coordinate.

  “So what information do you have on my daughter? I told you everything I know. Please tell me you know where she is.”

  “I don’t know where she is, not yet.”

  “Then I’m done cooperating.”

  “I’ve got pictures of the families at the drops we’ve witnessed. All you have to do is point her out. Then we go get her.”

  “Let me see. I want her out of there. I want her out of this country.”

  Novak hoped he found the girl’s picture so they could get her out before they brought the pipeline down. The three of them sat down at the dining table, and Lori opened her laptop and pulled up the photos she’d taken of the families.

  “I didn’t get shots of every single courier. There could be more families that we didn’t see, or there could be other kids that they leave at home. They might not want your daughter out in the public eye if she’s a kidnap victim. These are only the people we saw at the beach, or ones we were following when they raised that trident pennant. The photos aren’t the best quality, but you should be able to tell if any of them are her. That is, if anything you’ve told us is true.”

  “I’m telling the truth. If she’s one of them, you can match her to her school picture. I have it in my wallet.”

  Lori swiveled her laptop around so that she could scroll through the first pictures in front of them. Sokolov watched the screen, and Novak watched Sokolov. The Russian was leaning in eagerly. His face revealed disappointment. “No, neither of them is Katerina.”

  “The second family was photographed on Fripp Island. They came with two young girls, so maybe she’s with them.”

  A moment later, Sokolov shook his head. “No.”

  He went through two more sets without luck.

  “These are from Hilton Head Island. They brought an older boy and a girl.”

  Sokolov looked at each picture carefully, and then he froze. His face twisted with emotion, and he shocked them both by bursting into tears. “That’s her. Oh my God, she’s grown so much. But it’s her, she’s so beautiful.” He kept wiping away tears with his fingers. His outpour was raw and hard to watch, but revealed a lot to Novak. “I cannot believe I found her. We’ve got to get her out of there. Now, before they move her somewhere else.”

  Or worse, Novak thought. “They won’t move her without cause. Petrov knows nothing about you working with us now, or that she’s your daughter. Are you sure he doesn’t suspect you?”

  “He’s trusts me, I think. It’s hard to tell with him. He’s guarded.” He kept his eyes on his daughter’s picture. “She looks okay. Just so very thin. My God, I’m so relieved she’s alive and well. You’ve got to help me get her away from them, Novak.”

  No way was Sokolov’s relief at finding his daughter faked. “We will. Soon. But not until we get photographic evidence of the yacht meeting up with the Cubans. How close can we get to them without being seen?”

  “That’s not a good idea. I told you already. They are the most careful at that point. They’ll meet in open water where it’s unlikely to be observed. Coast Guard cutters and drones patrol the coastal waters. They avoid them and get closer to Cuban waters. I think the Cuban government might be getting a kickback.”

  “Even so, it’s surprising they haven’t been searched,” Lori said. “One call to my general and we could intercept them in the process of loading the drugs on the yacht.”

  “Getting Petrov and Blackwood and their entire crew in one fell swoop would simplify things considerably,” Novak said.

  “No, no, listen to me. We can’t do that. Petrov will get a call out in time, and the entire pipeline will fade into the woodwork. He’ll know I tipped off the authorities. We have to wait until next time, after I get my daughter out of the country. They meet up once a week or so. It won’t hurt to wait that long.”

  “I think it’s risky to wait, but it will give us time to get back to Hilton Head and get your daughter out before we bring the whole thing down.”

  “Is the GPS tracker still on the courier’s car?” Sokolov asked him.

  “Yes, we’re tracking several of them in different states. We couldn’t get them all, but that one’s for sure. They went to an address inside Beaufort and have stayed there most of the time; I’ve been checking. If they’re still there, we’ve got them. After that, I want to go after Petrov and Blackwood. I can’t get them down here, not on that fortified yacht, no way. So where do you suggest we try to take them, Sokolov?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t think you can get to Blackwood. You’ll have to let them get him during the law enforcement bust. Petrov’s careful, I warn you, but he can be surprised if you do things the right way. I do know his plan is to head up to Nantucket as soon they return to Key West on the yacht. That’s probably your best chance to find him alone. He likes it up there, likes to go out to eat at some of the restaurants on the island, things like that. Nobody would expect any kind of attack on Blackwood’s compound out there. It’s Blackwood’s summer home, nice and quiet, and it’s been in the family forever. No one would ever suspect he’s moving drugs out of that house. It will not be as heavily guarded as most. Not out in the open, anyway. Too many guards do nothing but raise suspicion in a small, insulated place like Nantucket.”

  “We need to bring my general in on this,” Lori told them. “Tell him everything and get a coordinated effort together to hit all these safe houses and the yacht at the same time. It has to come down all at once, or most of them will be forewarned and get away scot free.”

  Novak didn’t want to do that. He didn’t like bringing in so many agencies at once, especially where the Feds were involved. They had a tendency to leak information, and that could ruin the whole takedown. Sokolov felt the same way.

  “I don’t trust the CIA to keep it quiet.”

  “Of course, you don’t,” snapped Lori. “You’re a damned Russian spy.”

  “That doesn’t make me a bad guy. Just a loyal patriot to the Motherland.”

  “Like hell it doesn’t.”

  Novak listened as they bickered back and forth. They were never going to like each other. Lori was right about this, though. This was a big bust, and it had to be well-coordinated because there were so many people involved. Petrov would have a failsafe warning system locked into place. This was too big for the three of them to coordinate, but not so much for the power of the Pentagon. “Lori’s right, Sokolov. Washington will have to call the shots on this thing. Lori, I want you to fly up to D.C. and present all the evidence we’ve gathered so far. Give it to your boss, confidentially, in person. He already trusts you enough to bring you aboard in his new position. Leave my name out of it—it won’t do you any good in some corridors up there. They’ll arrest Sokolov the minute you mention him, so keep him out of the conversation.”

  “I’ve got to give them exemplary proof if I expect them to act. What are you going to do?”

  “First off, I’m gonna get Sokolov’s daughter back. Once she’s in a safe place, I’m going after Petrov. I should be able to get to him before you guys can put together a coordinated operat
ion to bring them down. How long do you think that will take?”

  “Using government hierarchy? Are you kidding? Forever, or even longer. Still, I’ve got all the evidence they’ll need to legally proceed right here in my laptop. That’ll speed things up. How much time do you need to take care of business?”

  “Less than a week if we get lucky, two at the most, if she’s still in the Beaufort house. Maybe longer. It depends.”

  “That’s doable, I think. I’ll need to fly up to D.C. tonight.”

  Once tentative plans were drawn up, Novak began to feel better. Lori would be home and out of danger, which was good. He could keep an eye on Sokolov himself, which he would do with diligence. Within the hour, Lori was packed and had driven his Civic rental out to the airport. She would fly out an hour after she got there. Sokolov and Novak kept watch on the Trident Point’s movements. At five o’clock that morning, the crewmen cast off the moorings, and the yacht moved slowly out of berth, headed for Cuban waters. Novak pulled anchor and headed up the coast toward Hilton Head Island. It had begun.

  Chapter 21

  Novak watched Sokolov for signs of nerves. The courier family lived in a house on Calhoun Street in Blufton, near Hilton Head. They had found it easily enough. The blue Camry with the GPS signal was sitting in the driveway. At the moment, he and Sokolov were crouched down behind a thick bed of azaleas growing at one side of the house. It was approaching eleven o’clock at night. Most of the houses were already dark, their vehicles parked out front or tucked into garages. Nobody stirred on the sidewalks or anywhere else. There were streetlights to avoid, but plenty of shadows they could use for cover.

  “Ready to roll, Sokolov?”

  “I just don’t want Katerina to get hurt.”

  “I can’t guarantee that. You sure she’ll remember you?”

  “I’m her father.”

  “One who was deployed most of her life. She hasn’t seen you in a while.”

  “She’ll remember me. We were close when I got to be with her.”

  “Do you have a plan in case she doesn’t?”

  “I’ve got a picture of her with her mama and me.”

  “Keep it handy. We can’t take a screaming kid out of that house in a neighborhood as quiet as this one. Okay, let’s do this.”

  Novak crept closer to the house with Sokolov right behind him. Sokolov had handled himself well thus far, and that was what Novak had expected since the man had worked as an agent. But that was a long time ago, and this guy was anxious and afraid for his child. A married couple had Katerina. At least, Novak assumed they were married, but they could be just two criminals working together. If Petrov had put Sokolov’s daughter with them after Blackwood had cast her aside, they would not be model citizens, but probably armed and dangerous. The teenager that he’d had last seen out on the ocean with them at their last drop was not inside the house. Nearly an hour ago, he had driven off in a convertible with a couple of other boys.

  “Okay, you know the plan. I’ll distract the mom and dad at the front door while you go in and get your daughter out as fast as you can make it happen. Head back to the car with her as soon as you can.”

  Sokolov had been uncharacteristically quiet since they’d arrived. Novak took a deep breath and hoped for the best. He had a bad feeling that something might go wrong. They could not risk incarceration by the local cops at this point, not on a charge of child abduction, which is what it would look like if they were apprehended. Right now, Lori was busy setting things in motion to bring Blackwood’s drug empire down around his ears. They needed to get the girl out, nice and quick with no trouble, then get the hell out of town. Problem with that was Sokolov. He didn’t appear up to anything at the moment. In fact, he was as nervous as a cat set loose in a dog pound.

  Novak stopped and placed his hand on the other man’s shoulder, hoping to calm him down. He could see the way Sokolov’s chest rose and fell, heard his raspy breathing. Once, Novak had had a sweet little daughter he’d loved as much as Sokolov loved Katerina, but she had died along with his wife and son when the Twin Towers had crashed to the ground on 9/11. Even now, years past that awful day, he felt the horror rising up inside him. Neither of his children got to grow up. They hadn’t even reached school age, but he knew that if either of them were held hostage in a house with criminals, he would feel the same trepidation that the Russian was now showing.

  “I’ve got to ask you, Sokolov. Can you do this or not? If you can’t, I need to know now. I can go in there alone and get your kid. Say the word and I will.”

  “No, she wouldn’t know you. She’d be scared. I can do this. I’m just a little nervous, is all. I don’t know what they might have told her about me and her mom. What if they told her I just gave her to them? Or that I didn’t want her? What if she hates me and won’t come with me?”

  “That’s up to you. I wouldn’t leave my child in that house with those people, not in a million years.”

  “I know. Of course, I know that. Okay, okay, I’ll go in the back door, just the way we planned it.”

  “Just make it quiet and find her fast. She’s probably already upstairs in bed. I’ll distract the two adults at the front door. Everything will go easier if you can get away without them knowing we took her.”

  “I know, I know, but you’ve got to keep them busy. It might take some time to convince her.”

  “You better convince her quick. C’mon, let’s get this over with before the older kid and his friends come back. That would just mean more people we have to deal with.”

  Novak pushed his gun into his belt holster at the small of his back, dropped his shirttail over it, and then stood up and walked to the sidewalk until he stood in front of the house. He looked around, found nothing going on, then walked down the sidewalk and climbed the steps to the covered front porch. He could see the couple inside as clear as day. The picture window was large, the drapes partially open. They sat together in the living room. It looked like they were watching television. He remembered the lady. They were definitely in the right place.

  Tonight she had on black sweats and was barefoot. She was sprawled on a couch the color of a ripe eggplant. The man was kicked back in a blue-and-red plaid recliner, and both were smoking pot. Several glass bongs, hypodermic needles, and other drug paraphernalia were scattered around on the coffee table in front of them. They were just a couple of typical drug-dealing dirtbags, smoking their product while waiting for their next drug drop. It was a sickening sight, especially with a small child somewhere in that house. Now he knew where they lived. The Feds would bring them down soon, right along with all their drug-dealing friends.

  Novak tapped a knuckle lightly on the front door and waited. He hoped Sokolov was already inside and had made it upstairs to the girl’s bedroom. He’d had plenty of time. A moment later the door opened, and the strong, pungent smell of marijuana rolled out in a wave. The woman was smaller than she had looked on surveillance. She had to tilt her head back to look up at him, standing not much taller than five feet. Her eyes were dark, and her pupils were dilated. She looked scared when she saw him. She took a step back and stopped there, her hand still on the doorknob. Novak didn’t move. She was spooked.

  “Keith,” she called out. “Some big guy’s out here.”

  Keith showed up three seconds later. He pushed the woman behind him as if he thought Novak was going for her throat. She hovered there, watching and wary, but not afraid to hang around and see what happened. Novak adopted a pleasant expression. He was pretty sure this guy was armed. “I’m sorry to bother you folks, but I was looking for Apple Street. I’ve gotten all turned around somehow and can’t find my way back downtown to my hotel. I saw your light was on, so I figured someone was still up. I know it’s late, but my phone’s dead, so I’m kinda desperate.”

  Keith relaxed visibly. He looked stoned out of his mind, but halfway functional. Most of his d
rug-robbing enemies invaded homes in packs with weapons drawn, no doubt. That was what he was used to. He had pulled on a windbreaker since springing out of that recliner, so Novak assumed he was hiding a gun. Novak turned slightly so he could reach his own weapon if something went wrong. Keith was still sizing him up, but was no longer tense. “You’ve come too far this way. Turn around and go back to Boundary and take a left. That should take you back downtown.”

  “Okay, let me just get those directions set in my mind.”

  The man looked past him at the street. “Where’s your car?”

  “I parked it just up the street there. I was going to ask at another house but their lights went off about the time I got out. So I saw yours were still on and walked down this way. Again, I’m really sorry to disturb you.”

  Novak was about to ask him to repeat the directions, stalling for time, but he failed to get the words out. A child screamed, and the horrible shriek reverberated down a staircase that Novak could see from his spot at the front door. Katerina had not recognized her father. For an instant, all three of them froze in place. Then Novak moved first. He drove his fist hard into the man’s solar plexus, and then as he bent over, gasping for breath, Novak brought up his knee and got him in the face. Keith collapsed hard, facedown and lay still. The woman took off down the hall, screaming as if the hounds of hell were after her.

  Novak shut the door and chased her, but she grabbed something off a table in the living room and whirled on him. The silenced Luger went off, and Novak threw himself down just in time. The bullet missed his head by a fraction. He charged at her and tackled her bodily to the ground. They landed near the coffee table, knocking off the bongs, which shattered on the hardwood floor. She fought him as if he were a demon, and she knew what she was doing. If she hadn’t been stoned out of her mind, she might’ve gotten away.

  Even so, she landed a hard undercut to his chin that sent his mind bouncing around inside his head, but he managed to get a grip on the gun. It went off again, the bullet hitting the ceiling and raining plaster down on them. He wrested the gun out of her hand, but not before she kicked him hard, aiming for the groin. He evaded that maneuver and flipped her over on her stomach, getting an arm around her throat. He squeezed off her air until she stopped fighting, maintaining the pressure a few more seconds until she went limp. When he was sure she was done, he stretched her out on her back, checked out the front window, and found nothing moving on the quiet street. He bounded upstairs at a run.