“Glad you called,” she said. “I need you to give me the names of the top people in the ESO.”
No preamble, just give me the impossible. Pure Driscoll.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Nice try. The only reason you’re not in a cell is because I didn’t tell Russell you were an ESO puppet. That’s something I can rectify at any moment.”
“Think you can prove it?”
“Easy. I’ll tell him to look at who put the kill order on me.”
“They’ll have already looked at that. I’m just waiting for the Feds to turn up.”
“Then help me. I’ll tell Russell you saved my life. That’s got to count for something. Plus, if you help me stop these people, it’ll look good on your part.”
“Lots of woulds, coulds, and ifs in there.”
“Still a lot better than you’ve got at the moment. These people are still active. They just killed Farooq’s friend to get to me, and they’re not gonna stop until I stop them. And the more killing they do now, the harder the Feds will come down on you for working for them.”
Sanders thought about it, though there wasn’t much to ponder. Driscoll was right. One look at the database and they would see his name next to the Eva Driscoll termination order. He was facing the rest of his life in prison, and in his current state of health that could be thirty-plus years. If he survived that long inside. A former director of the CIA was bound to be a tempting target for a con looking to make a name for himself.
There was, however, another angle to consider. He didn’t have enough cash to disappear for the rest of his life. He had plenty of assets, but the moment he started liquidating them it would flag up on someone’s radar. They’d seize everything and accelerate the investigation against him. He needed access to a lot of money, quickly, and there was only one way that was going to happen.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he told her.
“Don’t take too long. I’ll text you again later with a new number.”
“Wait. It won’t be today. Give me twenty-four hours.”
The phone went silent, and Sanders wondered if he’d pushed his luck too far.
“Twenty-four hours,” Driscoll said, and hung up.
Sanders turned the phone off and removed the battery, then put the pieces in the glove compartment.
Despite what he’d told Driscoll, he still knew a couple of major players in the ESO. They’d been overlooked when Russell had cast his net, and though they were keeping their heads down, they were still men of great influence.
He just had to decide how to play it. If he gave them up, it would certainly go a long way toward having any sentence reduced, and that was on top of Driscoll’s promise to square things with the president. It might even get him off the hook altogether. The problem was, giving Driscoll their names would ignite another killing spree. It would be better to take the information to the authorities and be seen as doing his part to help.
On the flip side, he could warn the ESO that Driscoll was on the warpath. They would already know as much, if they were really the ones after her, but they’d look upon Sanders favorably for the heads-up. He could ask for a few million in a Caribbean account and new aliases for him and his wife—his passport already having been confiscated to prevent him leaving the country—so that they could disappear forever, and muddy the trail back to the people at the top. If he couldn’t be found, then he couldn’t be questioned about the illicit activities the CIA had carried out on behalf of the ESO.
His mind made up, Sanders drove out of the parking lot just as his normal cell phone rang. It was his wife.
“What’s taking you so long? Is everything okay?”
“Sure. I got here and the engine light came on. I took it to the garage and it needs an oil change. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
Now wasn’t the time to tell her about his plan. He would let her know once he’d spoken to the ESO and details were finalized.
The next step was to contact them. He drove to a neighboring mall, to a rare public telephone, whose number was recognized by the people he needed to call. He dropped a quarter and dialed the number from memory.
“Alldays Travel, Melanie speaking, how can I help you?”
“Hi, Melanie. I’m interested in your summer Cairo package.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but we’re no longer accepting bookings for that destination. Is there anything else I can interest you in?”
“No, that’s all. Thank you.”
He replaced the receiver, then stood waiting by the phone. A minute later, it rang.
“Be at the Ha Wing restaurant in Chinatown at six this evening.”
The phone went dead. Traffic would be a nightmare at that time of day, so he’d need to get into DC early. He’d give his wife some excuse about meeting with his portfolio manager.
Sanders went into a grocery store and bought orange juice, then headed home for a nervous few hours of waiting.
CHAPTER 17
As she walked down the steps of the Harvey household, Janice Olsen privately celebrated what seemed like one of the better assignments she’d had. The mother was a bit highly strung, but she’d seen that in other first-time parents. She’d guessed Sarah hadn’t had much help since the birth, which was soon confirmed by the tearful blond. Once Sarah had gone for a much-needed nap, the rest of the day had been pure bliss. Sure, Alana had cried, but after a change and a feed, Melissa, Alana and she had played happily together for most of the afternoon.
It sure beat some of the families she’d worked for over the years. People who had kids because they were getting on in years and it was the thing to do, not because they actually wanted children. Sarah didn’t seem that kind, and now that she had some help around the house, the poor girl would almost certainly cheer up in the coming weeks.
Janice walked around the corner to the main road. She turned right again, then crossed at the red lights and joined the long queue for the bus to take her to her home in Chalk Farm. The commute was something she’d grown used to over the years. Not having a car meant taking either the bus or the Tube everywhere, and as she found the Underground claustrophobic, it was the double-deckers every time.
She arrived home a little after seven. Hers was one of four apartments in a converted duplex. It was small, but at least she had her own entrance and half of the garden to herself.
She put her key in the lock and turned it, then froze. Years earlier she’d been burgled while away on holiday, and ever since, she’d left the hall light on to deter thieves. Now the hall was shrouded in darkness, and she heard the sound of a drawer slamming shut. It came from the bedroom.
The memory of the previous invasion came flooding back. With it came anger at the thought of someone stealing her hard-earned possessions. Not that she had many, but that only made it all the more infuriating.
Janice tiptoed into the kitchen in search of a weapon. The first thing she spotted was the knife rack. She went to reach for the largest blade but thought better of it. She didn’t want to kill the burglar, only hurt him enough that he’d never come back. Instead, she picked up the rolling pin. It was made from marble, with wooden handles at each end, heavy enough to do some serious damage if she got the first blow in.
As she left the kitchen, it struck her that she should call the police. Why she hadn’t thought of that first, she didn’t know. Adrenaline getting the better of her, perhaps. She tucked the rolling pin under her arm and rummaged inside her handbag for her phone. As she did, a figure dressed in black ran at her. She could see her precious laptop in his hand, and the phone was forgotten. She grabbed the handle of the rolling pin and swung out in the same movement, catching him on the upper arm. She heard a scream of pain, then everything went black.
Chuck Dubowitz ran down the hallway toward the woman standing by the kitchen door. He carried her laptop in one hand to conceal the lead-filled sap he held in his other. As he got within range, he raised
the weapon to strike her, but before he could smash it down on her head, his arm exploded in pain. He howled and instinctively swiped her with a backhand that snapped her head backward. Her skull crashed against the frame of the door, and she collapsed to the floor.
He grasped his upper arm, knowing from experience that the humerus was broken.
“Fuck!”
Dubowitz looked down and saw the rolling pin on the floor next to the unconscious woman. He knelt and checked her pulse, which was strong.
“Payback time!”
He picked the pin up in a gloved hand and brought it down hard on her wrist. The crack was enough to tell him he’d achieved his aim.
“Viper One, Viper Two,” he moaned over comms.
“Go ahead, Viper Two.”
“It’s done, but the bitch broke my arm.”
“Roger that. See you at the RV.”
Dubowitz looked out the back door and saw that the coast was clear. He removed the black balaclava from his head and stuffed it inside his jacket, then manipulated the broken arm so that his hand was in his pocket. Pain shot through his body as he did so, but walking down the street clutching his arm would be noticed, and he didn’t want anyone taking an interest in him.
Biting back screams, he picked up the laptop and kept his head down as he walked through the garden to the street, then turned right.
When he reached the corner, Durston was waiting in the car. Dubowitz flopped on to the back seat.
“How bad is it?”
“It hurts like a bitch.”
“I contacted Nest. They’ve arranged for a doc to take a look at it.”
As they drove to the doctor’s home, Durston debriefed him. Dubowitz said he’d stolen the laptop to make it look like a real robbery, but also to spite the woman for breaking his arm.
“Just don’t use it to watch porn,” Durston said. “At least not ’til your arm’s better, anyway.”
“Oh, ha-fucking-ha.”
Despite his crude joke, Durston was pissed that he would be another man down for the rest of the mission. At least the nanny wasn’t seriously injured and would be able to play her part.
The next step was to wait for the Cobra team to intercept Harvey’s calls, then ensure the rest of the op went as planned.
CHAPTER 18
Harvey put the last of the dinner plates into the dishwasher, then poured a glass of red wine and went to join Sarah in the living room. Alana was on the brink of sleep, so he decided against turning the television on.
“How was your day?” he asked quietly as he stroked his daughter’s cheek.
“Surprisingly good. I take back everything I said about hiring a nanny. She was a godsend. I barely heard the girls all day and managed to get a couple of hours in the afternoon.”
“That’s great. With the money Len gave me, we should be able to keep her for another six months at least.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful. If only we could get Alana to sleep through the night. I’d love to get back to work by the summer, but my body clock is just so messed up.”
Harvey’s was the same. He’d done his share of midnight diaper changes, and once he was up he had difficulty getting back to sleep.
“It gets easier, or so I’m told. Here, let me take her upstairs and tuck her in.”
Sarah handed Alana to him and he whispered a song as he carried her up to her bedroom. It was right next to theirs, though for the first few weeks the crib had been in their room. That hadn’t worked out well, with both parents forced to wake when she started crying.
Harvey placed her in the crib and tucked the cover around her. He quietly sang her a lullaby, then kissed her forehead and went through to check on Melissa. She’d gone to bed an hour earlier and was sleeping with her arms wrapped around one of Alana’s teddy bears. Harvey gave her a gentle pat on the head, then returned downstairs.
“What’s new at work?” Sarah asked.
“Not much. The cell we’re investigating in Luton’s been—”
Sarah’s phone rang, and she checked the caller ID. “It’s Janice.”
She said hello and listened for a few moments. “Oh, I’m so sorry . . . Of course, I understand . . . no problem . . . Okay, you take care of yourself and I’ll speak to you soon. Bye.” Sarah set down her phone and turned to her fiancé. “Poor Janice. When she got home she found a burglar in her apartment. He stole her laptop and a bit of cash. As he tried to get out, he knocked her unconscious. It looks like she fell on her wrist and broke it.”
“That’s terrible. Has she called the police?”
“Yeah,” Sarah said. “They arrived at the same time as the ambulance. They’re checking the place over now. She’s sitting in A & E, so she won’t be home for some time. She said she’s sorry for putting us in a spot.”
“The main thing is she’s okay. Apart from the wrist, obviously. Though I guess she won’t be coming in tomorrow.”
“No. She called the agency to let them know. Fortunately, they’ve got an after-hours line. She said we should call and find a replacement for the next few weeks.”
Harvey took his phone from his pocket. “I’d better do that now.”
“Ready for your performance?” Durston asked.
Feinberg nodded. His English accent was flawless, making him the perfect man for the job. That was the reason for swapping shifts with the Cobra team.
After intercepting the nanny’s call to Sarah Thompson’s cell phone, Durston knew it wouldn’t be long before Harvey called the agency to find a replacement. It was also something of a relief to know that Dubowitz hadn’t gone over the top with the old nanny.
“Here we go.”
Feinberg adjusted his microphone and clicked on the Accept button.
“Fitch-Barron Employment Agency, David speaking, how may I help you?”
“Hi. This is Andrew Harvey. We got a call from our nanny Janice Olsen just now. She’s broken her wrist and won’t be able to work for a few weeks.”
“Yes, I received a call from her a little earlier,” Feinberg said. “A most unfortunate incident.”
“It was, yes. The thing is, I’m going to need a replacement. Just until Janice is back on her feet.”
“I was just looking into that when you called. Please bear with me a moment.” Feinberg tapped a few keys on the laptop next to him. “We do have one lady on our books who could start tomorrow. The others, I’m afraid, are booked solid.”
“That’s great. Could you give me her name and National Insurance number?”
Feinberg gave him the details.
“And how long has Linda been working through your agency?”
“Since 2014,” Feinberg said.
“That’s great. Could you give me the names and numbers of two referees, please?”
Feinberg read off the information he’d been given by control. He hadn’t been filled in on the facts, but assumed someone at the other end would pretend to be past employers of “Ms. Myers.”
“Would you like her to start tomorrow morning? I can give her a call now if you wish.”
“If you could, that would be wonderful.”
“No problem. I’ll speak to her and call you back with confirmation.”
“Thanks. Look forward to hearing from you.”
Feinberg killed the call. “I’ll give it five minutes, then call him back. Do you think he’ll check her out tonight?”
“Maybe. It’s almost ten o’clock, so he might leave it until he gets to work in the morning. It doesn’t matter either way. Her legend’s solid as a rock.”
Harvey took his untouched wine glass through to the kitchen and emptied it down the sink. If he’d had even a sip he wouldn’t have ventured behind the wheel of his car, but now he had no excuse for an early night.
He returned to the living room. “I’m heading into the office. I want to check this woman out before she gets here in the morning.”
The agency had called back to say Linda Myers could be there at eight o’clo
ck, but he didn’t like the idea of her being alone in the house with Sarah and the kids while he went through the vetting process.
“Don’t stay too long, sweetheart. Just do a prelim and follow up in the morning.”
“Okay.”
Both of them knew how long a complete forensic examination would take, but Harvey wanted to at least make a start.
He kissed Sarah and grabbed his coat on the way out. It was a quick drive to Thames House at that time of night, and he parked in his usual spot in the underground parking lot. He passed through security and took the elevator to his floor, then swiped to gain access to the open-plan office.
He powered up his computer and went to make a coffee. By the time he got back, it was ready and waiting for him to enter his credentials.
“Okay, Linda Myers, let’s see who you are.”
MI5 didn’t have a file on every citizen in the country, but they did have access to databases that, together, could paint a decent profile picture. He first inspected the HMRC database. Armed with her name and NI number, it didn’t take too long to get an idea of her employment history. It stretched back eleven years, and from the date of birth held against her NI number, he could see that she was thirty-four years of age. He didn’t know if that was young for a nanny. They all had to start at some point in their lives. Why not fresh from university?
Next, he checked with the police. She had one speeding ticket, dated eight years earlier, for travelling at ninety on the motorway. She’d gotten three points and a small fine for that transgression. Again, nothing that set alarm bells ringing.
Harvey looked for details of the people she’d previously worked for. One was a barrister, while the other worked in IT. His watch told him it was too late to contact them now, so he made a note on a Post-it to call them in the morning.
After a couple more checks, Harvey felt satisfied that Linda Myers wasn’t a wanted serial killer. There was more to look at, but the basics had been covered and he felt comfortable letting her into his home.
He locked the computer rather than shut it off, then swiped his way out and returned to his car. It was almost midnight, and he hoped Alana would allow him a decent night’s sleep.
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