True Honor

  “Luther doesn’t have state-level quality code encryption. And the Brits are as good as any at NSA. I can’t believe they couldn’t break it.”

  “They concluded it was an open code,” Gabriel replied.

  This was the last thing she needed today—another puzzle. Open codes were simple. Two people agreed on how numbers would be turned into letters, and while the two of them could decode the messages easily, it was incredibly difficult for others to do it. Her favorite open code used New York Times crossword puzzles. The numbers one and four became the first question, fourth letter. The next numbers in the code, eight and five, became the eighth question, fifth letter. The fact the open key was a public document that changed weekly made it difficult if not impossible to find that key unless one of the two people who used it revealed it. “Was there anything in the house that suggested what they were using as the open key?”

  “The Brits spent a week going through the house. They sent over videos of the walk-through they did of the rooms and photos of everything they recovered. They were hoping we’d have better luck spotting it.”

  “Are you sure they weren’t just hoping to keep us busy for a while? And what’s Vladimir doing hiring an IRA sniper and then hiring Jerry mere days later?” Darcy asked. “How many hits are they setting up?”

  “Luther has a plan and we’re seeing it begin to unfold.”

  “We need more guys on this.”

  “We’ll get as many as we need,” Gabriel promised.

  She closed the folder. “I hate puzzles.”

  “You love puzzles, dahlin’.” He struggled to his feet. “You’ve got clearance to take the package of materials home, just lock the stuff in your safe. We need to know what he was hiring this guy to do.”

  “And find Jerry.”

  “That too. I’ve got a meeting with the Brits this evening to find out what we can about this IRA sniper’s background,” Gabe said.

  “Check and see if he ever did any fund-raising in the States, if he had been here before. I’d like to get a sense of where he was being sent—Europe or here.”

  “Will do.”

  “Who do we have at NSA looking at this puzzle?” Darcy asked.

  “There is a team of five on it; the fact the Brits couldn’t crack it has the NSA boys determined to show they can.”

  She looked at the numbers. “In this case a little friendly competition is a good thing.” She was tired just looking at the page. She’d prayed for an answer. She had one. She just had no idea how to read it.

  All I’ve been doing lately is asking for wisdom and help. Faith is the evidence of things not seen . . . She’d read that somewhere. Can You guess what I’m asking for in this prayer, Lord?

  MAY 22

  Wednesday, 5:38 p.m.

  McLean, Virginia

  Darcy took the four videotapes and the photos of recovered items home with her. She wished she had stayed on vacation another two days. She needed to be fully rested for this kind of job. She sat at her dining room table and looked at the numbers. It was an aggravating puzzle. She knew the message was staring at her, but she didn’t have any idea how to approach it.

  Lord, I don’t want to be doing this, but it’s got to be solved. What is this? And who’s going to be killed if I don’t figure it out?

  A note to a sniper in Ireland. Maybe there’s also a note to Jerry in Yemen? What would a guy in Ireland and a guy in Yemen both have easy access to? Darcy turned to a blank page on her notepad. She looked through the photos. Items were displayed on the table: newspapers and what looked like a television guide. She started listing what she saw. They would have to be considered one by one.

  The phone rang. She reached around to answer it, even as she tried to make out the name of a newspaper.

  “I tried your office, but you had already gone home.”

  “Work came home with me,” Darcy said, relieved to hear Sam’s voice. “You got home okay?”

  “There’s a party going on to celebrate. I wish you were here, Dar.”

  “It would be better than here.” Maybe the key was a book? The numbers could be page references. She tried to figure out if they were a page number only, a page number followed by a line number, or a page number followed by a line and character number.

  “Mom asked me to say hi.”

  “Tell Hannah thanks.” She chewed on her pen. “Sorry, I’m pretty distracted.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Pray that I get a big dose of wisdom. I’m stumped.” She set down her pen and pushed the work away. “So . . . they’re celebrating your return.”

  “You’re always in my prayers, Dar. You’ll figure it out. It feels good to be home. We party tonight, move hay tomorrow.”

  “I’m glad for you, sad for me. I wish you were still here,” she admitted.

  “Hugs are good from a distance.”

  “I’ll take one.”

  “You’ve got one.”

  She smiled at the noise in the background. “Go cut the cake, Sam. It sounds like a good party.”

  “And I really wish you were here with me.”

  “Call me tomorrow, okay? It’s nice just to hear your voice.”

  “Guaranteed. Don’t work too late.”

  She looked at the photos across the table. Late was relative. “I won’t.”

  Sixteen

  * * *

  MAY 24

  Friday, 6:30 a.m.

  Timber Lake, South Dakota

  Sam understood why Darcy had come back to this part of the world when she retired. Open land, wide vistas, a place to breathe. He drank his coffee while watching the sun come up.

  His brothers had done an excellent job in preparing for the summer. He felt the soreness of moving hay. It was a good hurt, though, from hard productive work. His brothers planned to have the third barn under construction finished by midmonth to allow this fall’s hay crop to be stored nearer the cattle. The screen door behind him opened, and he turned to glance over his shoulder.

  His mom joined him. “Blueberry muffins. They’re hot.”

  He set down his coffee and accepted a muffin from the towel-covered basket, tossing it between his hands as it was still steaming. “Thanks.”

  The rest of the muffins and coffee carafe she would take to his father down at the barn in a morning ritual that went back to his childhood. The routines of home were comforting, familiar, something he could depend on to be here when he came back from his travels. “Mom, you mind if I borrow your video camera today?”

  “Feel free. I think it’s still in the living room.” She looked at him, curious. “Heading somewhere?”

  “I was thinking of taking a drive and heading a couple hours north.” Darcy could use a taste of home. She hadn’t had a chance to really relax and breathe in months. He couldn’t change her situation, but he could help her out.

  “Going to see Darcy’s home?”

  Sam nodded. “Meet her sister if possible. It shouldn’t be that hard to find the local sheriff.”

  “That would be a good idea. Darcy makes you smile, Sam. And you’ve been mentioning her in letters for months. I can think of worse distractions for one of my sons to have. I’d love to have a daughter-in-law.”

  Sam laughed. “So you’ve been saying for a decade. She’s got more layers than any other lady I’ve ever met.”

  “You don’t need someone simple, Sam. You would be bored. Go take your drive and make some tapes for Darcy. She’ll appreciate it.”

  Sam hugged his mom. “Okay if I invite her for Thanksgiving this fall?”

  “I would love it.”

  He didn’t know if Darcy would think a soldier in her life was a good thing, but he was beginning to think a retired spy in his would be.

  * * *

  There was a lot of time to think on a long solitary drive. This land was home, and while he drove, Sam understood just why Darcy chose this place to live the next season of her life. She would be comfortable h
ere, with her house, her family, a chance to have deep roots again surrounded by people who had known her growing up. For her the struggle over the years had been overseas. It was now centered on the work she did on the East Coast. This was the heartland of America, as far from the touch of terror as she could go.

  The idea of coming back here for part of the year was taking hold. He loved the sea and the travel, but a few days at home had reminded him of everything here he had missed. For the first time in years, he was feeling a tug to come back toward his roots and find the permanence that so marked his parents’ lives.

  He loved it here, in a land that stretched for miles, home to only a handful of people. He would retire from the SEALs in a few years, for it was a young man’s profession, and he wouldn’t want a desk job when his days in the field ended. He’d spent years exploring the world, and the idea of coming home no longer felt restrictive.

  He had a feeling Darcy had gone into her profession because she was just as much an explorer as he was. She sought out knowledge, places, people. In a civilian life he bet with a little prompting that she would make a world-class adventurer.

  The sound of a siren interrupted his thoughts. He looked up, surprised to find a police cruiser settling in behind him with lights flashing. A glance at the cruise control showed his speed was steady at the speed limit. He was the only one on the road, and the cruiser was definitely signaling him. He tapped his brakes and, when it was safe to do so, pulled to the shoulder of the road. The police car pulled to a stop behind him.

  The one officer inside got out from the squad car.

  Sam slid off his sunglasses. It didn’t take much study in the side mirror as she approached to see the similarity to Darcy. He’d been looking forward to meeting Amy, but this wasn’t quite what he had planned. “Is there a problem, Officer?”

  “Could I see your driver’s license and registration, please?”

  He handed them over, keeping his moves to a minimum. The badge said Bond. He hadn’t known her married name. “I didn’t realize I was speeding.”

  “Excuse me.”

  She stepped back from the car toward the trunk and lifted her radio, looking at his IDs and then at the car plates. He didn’t like the tension in her voice as she approached again. “Mr. Houston, would you please step out of your car.”

  “Amy, what’s the problem?”

  “Please step from the car.” The tone of her voice said she expected the order to be obeyed. Other than stepping back out of the way, she simply waited for him to comply.

  He shut off the car, picked up his billfold from the dashboard, and stepped out.

  She motioned back toward her patrol car and he followed the silent order. He saw the relaxation creep in as he moved away from his car. “What’s going on?”

  “You picked up this rental car at the Bismarck airport?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you ask for this particular car by model?”

  “I requested a large car with leg room.”

  He saw a small smile as she looked him over. “Yes, I imagine a compact would have been a problem. Where were you September 11?”

  Now he was more confused than ever. “With your sister in Virginia.”

  She studied him for a moment and then gave a small nod. “I figure her read of character is still pretty good.” She stepped away and lifted her radio. “Jim, send a tow truck. The car is at mile marker 8, Route 6, just inside the state line.”

  “Will do, Sheriff.”

  “I gather there’s a problem with the car,” Sam said.

  “Yes.”

  “A problem for me?”

  Amy smiled. “Not unless your prints are on the stash we think is inside that wheel well.”

  Sam blinked. “I’ve been driving around contraband?”

  “Despite the war, most crime around here is still the normal kind. We arrested the kid who put it there two days ago, only he had managed to confuse the car he put it in. Process of elimination, we made it out to be yours. We’ll get you another rental car.” She leaned against the side of the squad car and tugged open a pocket. She offered him a butterscotch candy. “Sorry about the welcome; it’s going to be a boring twenty minutes.”

  “I’ve done boring before.”

  “I thought you were down at Timber Lake. What are you doing up this way?”

  He let himself relax. “Looking for you.”

  “Truly? Well you found me.”

  MAY 24

  Friday, 11:18 a.m.

  Central Intelligence Agency

  Darcy studied the time line tacked on Gabriel’s bulletin board. “Luther hired snipers to go after our guys on September 9; he just hired Jerry and a former IRA sniper. We think Luther was behind the wave of sniper attacks across Europe. Looking at that picture, it’s pretty obvious we need to get a better handle on snipers who are out there for hire. I don’t see that pattern ending.”

  “It looks to me like he’s hiring just the sniper and letting that man choose and provide his own support team,” Gabe agreed.

  “If only we could get an idea of his target list.”

  “We need to focus more on squeezing Luther’s money,” Gabe countered. “We find his money, then his ability to hire snipers of this caliber disappears. The diversity of his targets suggests he’s not the one with a master list. The names are being given to him by different groups, and he’s simply facilitating the contacts.”

  Gabriel tacked a new picture of Vladimir to the board. “We’ve got this down to Luther, his wife, Renee, and Vladimir. We get them, and the people they’ve hired will die on the vine.”

  “Add an unknown person to replace Dansky,” Darcy said. “Luther’s new number three has to be several things: trustworthy, a good planner, and probably experienced at moving money.”

  “Add acceptable to Vladimir. He’s hiring the help and will be thinking about his own safety as much as Luther’s. He won’t want someone he doesn’t trust to know their movements.”

  Darcy nodded. “Not a small point.” The calendar on the wall haunted her. The September 11 anniversary was out there and coming closer. “Luther’s got a hit list, and it scares me that the Brits or the Special Ops guys that hit him in Algeria and Morocco will be on it. On the opening day of this war he attempted three hits in the space of an hour. Can we at least put together a list of names of who might be vulnerable and warn the guys?”

  “I’ve already talked to the Defense Department. They understand the risks this new information represents. Don’t worry about that, Dar. They’ll take care of their own. My guess is the team will be tucked away on some military base out of sight, and they’ll have arranged security for the families. A sniper has to establish a base of operations, has to know the terrain. If you’re new to town, it’s not easy to move within a town like Norfolk these days and not be noticed. There are too many military personnel at the numerous bases who are already looking for trouble.”

  Darcy had experienced a taste of that security on her brief trip to Norfolk. She knew it was good, but she still didn’t like the threat out there.

  The phone on Gabriel’s desk rang. He leaned back to answer it. “Hello.”

  “Yes.”

  Darcy looked over and saw a strange look cross his face.

  “What’s the address?” He reached for a pen and paper.

  “We’ll be there in less than twenty minutes.”

  Gabriel hung up the phone.

  “What?” Darcy asked.

  “The FBI has something we need to see. They may have found one of Luther’s hired snipers.”

  MAY 24

  Friday, 11:50 a.m.

  Shelton, North Dakota

  Sam walked around Darcy’s home, feeling a combination of envy, wonder, and sheer disbelief. She had called this house a multiyear project. There was some truth to that. The plumbing and electrical probably needed to be totally gutted. The outside was weathered and would need substantial work to go with the new roof she’d put on
. But the house . . .

  Sam leaned over the stair railing to peer down at Amy. “She’s planning to what?”

  “Rip out that staircase and put in a spiral one and open up this part of the entryway.”

  “This is pure walnut.”

  “I told her that,” Amy said.

  “How’s she going to get furniture upstairs with a spiral staircase?”

  “She says she’ll just never change it.”

  “Amy, she buys a masterpiece and she wants to modernize the heart out of it?”

  “She’s bored.”

  The house must have twenty rooms; it was huge. He found the bathroom Darcy had mentioned she was remodeling. Half the floor tiles were pulled up, tile that must have been custom-made given the scripted J in each tile. A few were chipped and they showed the yellowing of age, but still . . . “Who built this place?”

  “An old guy who found a gold mine and wanted the town to remember him.”

  “They will.”

  “But not for the reason he hoped. He drove his car into the creek and drowned.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Darcy was a favorite of his. He left her first rights to buy the house.”

  “This is a spectacular house. She owns all the land too?” He looked out the stairway landing window to get a good view. The grounds reflected an enormous amount of Darcy’s energy. The fence bounding the property had been repaired and the underbrush cleared. An outbuilding had been torn down and the ground leveled. There was enough wood chopped to keep a fireplace blazing for a full winter season. Darcy had been working from the outside of the property in.

  “She owns just over a hundred acres—all the surrounding land plus the land down to the creek.”

  Sam descended the stairs, letting his hand slide down the banister. “With a lot of work this will become a great place.”

  Amy perched on the window seat overlooking the huge front yard. “I think I’m starting to really like you, Navy SEAL Sam Houston. You’ll be good for Darcy.” She offered a book of wallpaper samples. “She chose this one for the kitchen.”