“How you doing there, sport?” Edwards asks McDowd.
“I’m getting the hang of it.”
“Who’s that?”
McDowd has run Kate’s name, just for shits and giggles. “My sister’s neighbor.”
“Cute, so what’d you find out?”
“You name it, social on her, school transcripts, credit report, bank accounts…”
Edwards leans in and lowers his voice, “Besides the chic.”
“Well, trying the names, there are only seventy-nine Katrinas in the area.
“Only?” Edwards balks.
“There’s a big Russian community around here.”
“But they’d be legal émigrés”
“I know, so I’m checking pre-1985.”
“Hey!” Mayo calls out. He waits until he has everyone’s attention. “NSA kicked something out.” McDowd and Edwards come over to his machine to look.
“We gave them the names on our list. They got a hit on Katrina from ECHELON. Yesterday, a call to a cell in Washington, same billing address as the Russian Embassy residence. The call came from a cell listed as business, the Free Iran Movement. Mahmoud Barabi!”
“You got a name on the Russian account?” Edwards asks.
“Vanya Ustinov,” Mayo smiles.
“Well, that’s two dots connected!”
A burst of profanity in Arabic echoes across the hangar from Haddad’s direction, followed by shattering news. He storms over to his team of agents working the phones and Internet. “They want to shut it down.”
“Whoa! What’s up with that?” Edwards balks.
“The clock is ticking, despite having shot and killed an unarmed woman. The only reason I’m still here is we’ve just happened to stumble upon a nest of Russian spies. Thankfully, we got a bunch of intel at her house. Enough apparently to save my ass, and the operation, for now.”
“Our targets are still out there,” Edwards warns.
“To quote Assistant Director Sullivan, we’re chasing ghosts based on a hunch,” Haddad replies.
“Not anymore. We just connected a Russian Embassy staffer to an Iranian and the Afghan intel we have. Besides, the Russians we’re chasing weren’t ghosts,” Freaks says.
“Do you have the Russian staffer?” Haddad asks.
“Yeah, but he’s dead,” Edwards says.
“And the Iranian?”
“Bob has him,” Freaks throws in.
“Fine. But will he talk?”
Edwards smiles, “He’ll talk, all right.”
Chapter 20
Northeast Philadelphia
Stani stands alone in the empty fighting cage in his empty warehouse. The echoes of glory past fill his mind. He smiles. He has won many battles here, and lost a few, but those losses only made him stronger. Now the real fight will begin, at last. There will be no mercy, no retreat, and no surrender. The past builds to the present, and becomes the future.
A voice calls out from across the empty space. “It’s okay to look back Stan, just don’t stare.” It is Stani’s business partner, Nate.
Stani laughs, “Ha! Victory never loses its sweetness, my friend.”
“Well, when you get to be my age, that’s all you have left. You still have plenty of fight in you. You should take on that Kesean punk again. This time for real,” Nate tells him.
“The parking lot was enough for me. I have much bigger fish to fry,” Stani says with a sinister smile.
“Oh yeah?” Nate laughs.
Stani’s smile fades slightly as he stares down at Nate from the ring. “He is a good man. If only he were with us,” he thinks to himself. “Come, let me show you something,”
Nate follows him out of the cavernous space.
“I remember how you used to poke fun at me for spending so much on this place,” Stani says.
“I still think you’re crazy, even though you’ve made your money back, and then some.”
They come to a stairwell. Stani throws a light switch and leads him two flights down, upsetting a rat or two along the way. “Crazy as a fox! The upstairs is just a part of the setup. I needed the space for something else entirely.”
Nate has never been down here. The physical plant of the facility is filled with pipes and cables. The light is faint and the smell is dank, moisture laced with fuel oil. A large steel door looms at one end of the hall, like one found on a vault.
“What is this, some kind of bomb shelter? You one of those preppers?” the old cop laughs.
“In a way, yes!” Stani chuckles as he types in a code to the electronic lock. “The previous owners had it built during the cold war. I had it updated, as you can see,” he says.
The bolts release with a pop, and he swings open the heavy thick door. “Ironically, to protect themselves from the Russians!”
Nate doesn’t get the joke, but he laughs along with his pal anyway. It sounds funny. When Stani throws on the light, it’s not so funny anymore.
Nate’s jaw drops as he follows Stani inside. The room is an arsenal with wall-to-wall weapons, seriously scary-looking stuff. “Jesus-H-Christ, Stani! What the fuck is all this shit?”
Stani beams. “You like?”
At first Nate is amused, but then the gravity of what he’s looking at sets in. “Is that a fucking rocker launcher?” he asks, pointing to a stacked case against the wall.
“Stinger anti-aircraft weapon,” he smiles.
“My God, Stani! You shouldn’t have any of this shit. What, are you selling this stuff?” At this point Nate remembers of his old off-duty piece in his ankle holster.
“This is nothing. Come here, I show you something really cool,” Stani says, waving him over to yet another vault-like door. After dialing up the combination, Stani pulls open the double doors and steps away for Nate to see. Two large steel suitcases, both with a dull green paint finish and lettering that he can’t read, but knows it’s Russian. Then he hears a series of metal clicks.
Turning around slowly, he finds Stani holding up an AK-47, stroking it in admiration. “But of all these toys, this is perhaps the finest. Brilliant in its simplicity. Rugged, durable and cheap to manufacture.”
Nate is seriously shitting now. Sweat begins to make his brow glisten. He wants to go for his gun, but he and Stan have known each other for years. “What’s in the suitcases, Stan?”
Still admiring the weapon, Stani breathes deeply, then releases it as a sigh. “Nightmares, Nathan, nightmares.” He racks the first round into the chamber. “They are tactical nuclear weapons, bought here some twenty years ago. Now I have to set them off.”
Nate really wants to think he’s kidding. He starts to crack a smile, but he knows its no joke. “Stani, what the fuck? Why would you want to do that?”
Stani shrugs. “I have to. Those are my orders, you see.”
Now Nate’s head is racing. The old cop never thought retirement would come to this.
“We have been friends for a long time. Do you trust me, Nate?”
“You know I do, Stan…”
“You have been like an older brother to me, so believe me when I tell you, I do this because I love you, and I don’t want you to suffer as the others will.”
Stani levels the assault rifle and places a round right between Nate’s eyes. He is dead before his hits the floor.
“Good night, my good man. I will see you on the other side,” Stani says softly.
Chapter 21
Elkton, MD
Along a quiet little road that runs to the edge of the Elk River is a big house that seems to be rarely used. Now and then the neighbors see lights on and SUVs in the driveway, but never any people. The rumors about who owns the place range from sports figures to actors. Someone said they once saw Brad Pitt outside, but since the traffic going to and from usually consists of dark sedans or SUVs instead of Maybachs or Lamborghinis, no one can say for sure. The mailman doesn’t even know, since there is never any mail.
W
hat lies beyond the stylish but intruder-sensitive fence is a safe house, a quiet place where government agencies can hide witnesses or other guests. The “guest” today is Moody, and although the accommodations will satisfy any celebrity, he is far from comfortable. He’s been cooling his heels for a while now in a locked bedroom with sealed windows when a couple of guys come to take him downstairs to the interview room, sparsely furnished with a couple of chairs and a table space with a one-way mirror. He can’t help to notice the drain on the floor.
Bob is waiting for him. “Ah, Mr. Barabi. Come in and have a seat.”
“I want a lawyer, I know my rights. You cannot hold me without charge!”
His escort pushes him into the chair.
“Oh, I know, but I don’t think you want a lawyer right now. I think that you’ll want to hear us out, and actually give us a hand with something,” Bob smiles.
“I have done nothing wrong. I am a friend of your government….”
“Mr. Barabi,” Bob talks over him, “or may I call you Moody?”
“Who are you?” Moody demands.
“My name is Bob, and right now I’m the only thing standing between your freedom and spending the rest of your life someplace very bad, one that will make Gitmo seem like a country club..”
Now Bob has his attention.
“You are wanted in connection with two murders, a U.S. citizen and a Russian national. Even if you do get a lawyer, I can assure you, you will be convicted. If we don’t have enough evidence, we will create it. If that’s not enough, we’ll charge you with espionage, that is if we don’t hand you over to the Saudis. You see, we know what Hamdi has asked you to do.”
Moody’s swallows hard.
Bob smiles at the sight. “Surprise! You’ve been betrayed.” Moody looks at Bob dumbfounded, but a hint of opposition lingers in his eyes. Bob knows how to take care of that. “You are alone, Moody. No one knows, or probably cares, that you are here. If you don’t want to help us, we will convince you otherwise. This room has a great track record of convincing. Perhaps you noticed the drain beneath you? Better men than you have seen their resistance flow down it, if you get what I mean.”
He gets what he means. “What is in it for me?”
Bob is tolerant. “You want to negotiate?”
“Let us call it a signing bonus,” Moody suggests smoothly. The fact that the CIA man even heard him out tells him they are desperate.
Bob sits back. “We want whomever you contacted here. Do that and we’ll put you on a plane.”
“And I also want a half million is cash.”
“Anything else?” Bob asks pleasantly.
“I will need to think about it.”
Bob stands up and heads for the door. “Well, you do that. In the meantime, perhaps you’d like to freshen up?”
“Thank you, that would be nice.”
“My pleasure.”
The door opens for him, and as Bob steps out, three men step in, one carrying a medical backboard. Bob grabs the last guy before he goes in. “Make it fast, and try not to kill him.”
“Your never going to let me forget that one, are you Bob?” the guy grumbles, shaking his head as he closes the door.
Chapter 21
Woodcrest Road
When the going gets tough, the tough go to a meeting. In true twelve-step tradition, she’s reached out to another alcoholic in need of support, Dan McDowd. The pull of the bottle is strong, but regardless of how bad things are for her right now, they’ll get even worse if Kate picks up a drink. So off she goes, one foot in front of the other, one step at a time. God, however, loves to throw curveballs. A soon as she opens the door, she sees Michael waiting for her on the sidewalk, giving her a wave of anxiety. She keeps moving, head down. She can’t deal with him now.
“I’m late for a meeting, Michael, what do you want?” she says evenly, rushing by him.
“I need to get some things.”
“Not now, not when the kids are home.”
He grabs her arm. She stops and looks at his hand with an icy stare, making him let go. He knows what she’s capable of. “They’re my kids too.”
“Not now. Email me what you need. I’ll leave it on the porch.”
Now McDowd comes walking down the sidewalk, feet crunching on the dry leaves.
“I’m taking Julie’s brother to a meeting. I’ve got to go,” she says, leaving him standing in the driveway.
Seeing McDowd pisses Michael off. “You’re far from perfect yourself, Kate!” he shouts after her, but Kate ignores him. “I’m not as stupid as you might think I am. We all have our secrets, don’t we, Kate?”
Kate stops dead in her tracks. He’s got her attention now. “There’s no way he can know…can he?”
She wants to have the discussion now. She wants to ask him what he means by that, but she can’t, not now. Not in front of McDowd. “Send me the email and call my cell tomorrow.” They get in and drive away, leaving Michael standing there.
“Sorry, you had to see that,” she says.
“It must be tough, but that’s why we have meetings, right?”
“Thank God for that,” Kate sighs, not sounding entirely convinced anymore. She feels like an old camel, already struggling under the weight and having another steamer trunk tossed onto her back.
“Are we going to be late?” McDowd asks.
“Naw, it’s just five minutes from here,” but she drives as if they will be.
“So how’s Bone’s family doing?” he asks.
“They’re a strong bunch. Really nice people, deeply spiritual. Thankfully, it’s all over tomorrow.”
McDowd shares his bittersweet memories about his pal until Kate parks and they both get out. “Are you going to the service?”
“No, I have a meeting I have to go to. I guess I’ll miss seeing you in uniform,” she smiles.
“I can always wear it for Julie’s Halloween party.”
Kate scowls. “Isn’t there a rule about that?”
“I guess it might be a little too frightening for some,” he laughs.
The meeting clubhouse is located in a small strip mall in the center of town. As they near the entrance, McDowd quietly asks, “So, what kind of meeting is it?”
“A closed speaker meeting,” Kate tells him.
“Who’s speaking?”
“How about you?”
Dan stops in his tracks. “You’re joking, right?”
“My speaker called in sick. I can ask someone else.”
“Well, you know . . .” McDowd waffles. There aren’t many social faux pas in AA, but one is declining an invitation to speak, if you’re qualified.
“How much time do you have?”
“About two years, but…”
“And when was last time you spoke?”
He paused before answering. “I don’t remember.”
She lets him come to his own conclusion.
“You planned this, didn’t you?”
“Some things just fall into place. Did I mention it’s a woman’s meeting?”
He stops dead in his tracks.
“Only kidding, come on,” Kate giggles as they go inside.
Across the street, an old friend watches Kate as she goes inside. He is far from a secret admirer. He watches because it is his job. Just like the alcohol, he waits for the slip, the little mistake that regardless how careful we are, we make regardless. He wonders who this new man is, and if he is what he’s been waiting for. Either way, he knows Stani will be interested.
Chapter 22
Elkton, Maryland
The tool has been honed over time. The Inquisitors of the Catholic Church called it The Water Cure, a divinely revealed method of obtaining the hidden truth lurking in the mind’s darkest shadows. It was as easy to administer then as it is now.
Moody is strapped upside down to a medical backboard, totally immobilized as if he has a back injury. His mouth is stuffed wit
h a rag and a pillowcase is pulled tightly across his face, both soaked by the constant stream of water supplied by a garden hose. He is drowning. His body convulses and shudders. His mind knows they won’t let him die, but his body can’t be reasoned with. All he can do is pray they won’t do it again. Unfortunately, they will.
Whether or not they will do so a third time will be entirely up to him.
Moody cowers when Bob comes in.
“Good morning,” he says cheerily, holding out a steaming cup of tea and a wool blanket. “Are we done playing games now?”
Moody nods his head.
“Will you ID the contact you made here?”
“Yes,” Moody shivers.
“Are they armed with nuclear weapons?”
“Yes, that is what I am told.”
Bob throws him the blanket, “Where?”
“Pennsylvania,” he says, holding his hand out for the hot beverage.
Chapter 23
Glenside, PA
In the back of the Sahara Club is a pay phone. When it rings, someone picks it up because it’s usually an alcoholic in trouble. This time it is Kate’s sponsee, Sheila.
Kate pulls up to a small house at the end of a dead-end street. The block is filled with starter homes and rentals, places for those on the way up or on the way down. Sheila moved in with her fiancé close to six months ago.
A cold breeze makes the dry leaves clatter like little bones, and a wind chime rings out a lonely note. As she climbs the porch stairs, Kate sees that front door is ajar. Looking down the dark hall, in the kitchen’s fluorescent light, she can see a chair knocked over. She instinctively reaches for the gun she doesn’t have.
Every muscle tightens, every sense becoming hyper aware. She takes a breath and slides inside, and then pauses to let her eyes adjust and her ears search the surroundings.
“The furnace, the refrigerator, and upstairs, the shower.” Kate can see the place is a mess. Sheila’s bag has spilled on the floor.
“She’s here.”
Kate climbs the stairs, staying close to the wall, following the sound of the running water. At the end of the hall, the bathroom door is half opened, and steam rolls out from the top. Slowly she pushes the door open.
“Kate?” Sheila whimpers.
Kate rushes in and pulls back the shower curtain, finding Sheila curled up on the tub floor. The little remaining clothing she has on is torn, and a thin ribbon of red streams to the drain from underneath her.