Cobra Clearance (28 page)

It was dark when he arrived but he could see Jackson's truck in the front lot. He pulled up to the cabin and went inside. The unkempt room made him think of Brenda. As a professional he always suspected that she might be on Kruger's payroll. He thought he knew the reason, and it was underscored by a sense of honor. But the roofies introduced a new menace, one he would neutralize. Retrieving a hidden SIM card, he put it in his cell and then went to the mirror. His eye had turned purple, marking a contrast to his unsoiled T-shirt and Doc Martens.

A minute later he entered the Sunset through the rear door. It still reeked of vomit, tobacco and stale beer, the same signs hung
from the walls, and green doors still guarded the rest rooms. Yet everything had changed.

Brenda turned at his approach and waited, and when he looked into her eyes she shifted uncomfortably and put a hand to his cheek. “What happened?”

“Got in a fight.” He glanced at a pair of old timers at the bar, then at Jackson, sitting alone at a table with his cowboy hat pushed back.

“You win?”

“You're joking, right?” He studied her face. “Anything you wanna tell me?”

“Um, no.” She got busy cleaning a beer mug.

To minimize getting drugged again, he said, “Kruger knows I been doin' junk.”

“Oh?” She started cleaning the same mug again.

“But he don't care. Said I can do all I want.”

“You should do some now.” Her eyes narrowed. “You look like crap.”

“I'm gonna—in about ten minutes.” Pushing back from the bar, he marched to Jackson's table, plopped into a chair and stretched out his legs. “I came to apologize.”

“Yeah? And I wanna shake hands with whoever gave you the black eye.” He put a bottle of Millers to his lips, drained the last few ounces and slammed it down. The table rattled and the old timers turned to look. Jackson said, “You didn't have to kick me.”

Fearing a set-up he said, “You shoulda stood up like a man.”

Jackson dropped his gaze. “You never even asked my side of the story.”

“Your side?” He scoffed. “Only side I care about is Brent Kruger's, an' he said you ratted us out.” He flung his arms out wide. “I'm a soldier. I do what I'm told.”

“Give me just a little break. You're no soldier.” Jackson pointed to his chest. “I was a soldier. Damned good one, too. EOD. Know what that means?”

Levi looked him up and down. “Yeah.
Enough Of this Dope.
” He jumped to his feet, went to the bar and told Brenda to get him a beer.

Jackson looked over his shoulder at the front door. The path was clear. The old guys were no threat. Pulling his hat low, he reached into his pocket and grabbed the pistol. Holding it beneath the table, he calculated the bullet's trajectory. It would strike the base of Eric's spine. He would leap forward and finish him off, then speed back to the compound and take out Kruger. He tightened his finger around the trigger. The hammer moved back, further and further until…

CREAK
.

The front door opened. A woman's voice called out. “Levi? Levi Hart? My God, I've finally found you.”

Jackson froze. Eric's face went white. Jackson released the trigger, then turned toward the blond, well-dressed woman standing in the doorway. She was staring at Eric.

Susan Kane stepped inside. “Levi, darling. I've been looking all
over
for you.”

L
evi recovered at once and kicked it into passing gear. Cohen's life stood in the balance and he had to assume the presence of hidden mics. He looked at her with mild amusement and said, “My name's Eric, lady.”

Susan took a tentative step forward. “Oh, no you don't. I know that face, those eyes. That voice.” Stepping closer, she looked at him through the dim light. “Do you care to explain your lack of hair and the acquisition of that black eye?” She took another step. “My Lord, a
Swastika.
And piercings, too? What's going on, Levi?”

He shook his head sadly. “Told you. My name's Eric.”

Susan said in a clear, firm voice, “No. You're Levi. You're my lover.”

“Lover? Hell lady, you must be on drugs.”

“I can prove it. You have a scar on your left hip, the result of a hunting accident.”

“He's got no scar,” Brenda said, so quietly that everyone turned to her.

Susan stamped her foot. “Of course he does.”

“No he don't.” She put splayed fingers to her stomach. “I should know. I'm carrying his baby.”

Levi spun around and looked at her. “Brenda…”

“No.” Susan's mouth opened and closed, and she looked around the room with uncertainty. “I—I could have sworn you were my friend Le…”

“What else is there about him below the waist?” They all turned to the source of the voice and found a smug Jackson sitting with folded arms.

“I beg your pardon?”

Jackson stared at Levi but said to Susan, “What I'm asking is, could he pass for a Jew-boy?”

“I don't quite understand.” Then she got a triumphant smile. “No. He could not.”

Jackson sneered at Levi. “Forget so soon? I was there the night you proved to Brent you weren't—that you're Aryan. You also told him how you got that scar.”

“So? All it proves is I been boning her.” He turned on Susan with cruel, pitiless eyes. “You still ain't gettin' it, are you? I gave you a good time an' I gave you a made-up name. What'd you expect? That I'd tell you who I really was?” He scoffed. “You won't be the first babe to cry rape—an' that's why I been runnin'.”

Susan's jaw dropped. “But…”

“Get it through your skull. I ain't available no more.” He gestured at Brenda. “She's gonna have my kid an' I gotta do right by her. Now beat it.”

Susan Kane stood there in her smart outfit and her silence said it all. Then she straightened her back. “Yes, I see now that I made a mistake in looking for you.” She forced a laugh. “Excuse me for barging into your—life.”

“Wait a minute.” He couldn't let her leave without knowing where to find her. She was temporarily in shock but she wouldn't give up—not after tracking him this far and for this long. He had to initiate counter-measures. “Where're you goin' now?”

She hesitated, an uncertain look on her face. “My hotel. Just down the…the Doral. Why? What's it to you?”

He laughed. “'Cause I'll send my buddy Bronk over to give you a good screwin'.”

“Fu…” She turned around and said, “Go to hell,” then walked out the door.

Jackson smiled and said across the gulf of floor space, “Hey Eric, come over here so we can chat.” Narrowing his eyes he asked, “Or should I call you Levi?”

He held up a palm to Jackson. “Chill.” Then he turned to Brenda. “Okay, so I been screwin' her. But it don't mean nothin'. Now what's this about a baby?”

“I ain't pregnant.” She looked away. “Not yet. I was covering for you.”

“Why?”

“Because of what you said. About my mama, and offering money.”

Okay. I can trust her up to a point
. “Gimme your cell. Mine's broke an' I gotta call somebody.” At least she couldn't call Kruger when he wasn't looking.

She handed over the phone, then flicked her eyes at Jackson. “Get on over there. I expect you've got some explaining to do.” She got busy with the dirty glasses.

Levi leaned over the bar and grabbed two bottles of Millers from the cooler, then carried them to Jackson's table. Handing one to the cheese-grinning man, Levi sat and waited until Jackson lifted the bottle to his lips and tilted his head back. Then he reached into his pants pocket and closed his hand around his cell. “So…” he began while texting SOS—
Sunset
beneath the table and hitting
SEND
, “…yeah. Brenda knows I screw other babes. But I don't gotta rub her face in it. I mean, what else could I tell that woman?” He kept up the small talk until Dentz ambled into the bar eleven minutes later and took a seat in a dark corner. Levi said to Jackson, “Hey, I know that guy. Wait here a sec.”

He walked over and sat next to Dentz. “Busted,” he whispered. “An old girlfriend stopped by. Brenda and Jackson suspect something.”

Dentz said, “Michael's outside. Tuck's a minute out. Sawyer and Hack are down the road in chase cars.” He pointed to Levi's black eye and laughed as if they had joked about it, then added, “Monica's five away. Baker's in D.C. in a meeting with the Man.”

“Okay. Watch Brenda. She talks to nobody, goes nowhere, makes no calls without one of you guys on her—and I mean on her.”

When Dentz let out another laugh, Levi got up and beckoned to Jackson. “Let's take it outside.” Levi preceded him into the parking lot, and spotting Michael behind the wheel of his black truck, he made a discreet show of four fingers—
Code-four
—to signify
all's well
. Then he tapped Jackson's arm. “Far end of the lot. Let's go.” When they reached a line of mesquite casting brief shadows beneath a rising moon, Levi looked him in the eye. “Let's talk. No games.”

Jackson edged close and whispered, “Brent's gonna kill me. I need out.”

“Why? You're his cousin. Sorry, but I ain't buyin' it.”

Kruger's cousin held up his hands in despair. “It's true. See, he won't need me much longer. I know too much, plus I saw him kill a couple a guys.” He looked through Levi toward some unseen thing. “And I think he's gone nuts.”

Levi showed no physical reaction. But he was thinking. Jackson was providing the classic motivators for revenge. Perhaps too classic. But he'd added that bit about Kruger becoming unhinged—and damned if he hadn't seen it himself. He motioned with his hand as if to a card dealer. “Gimme.”

Jackson glanced around the barren lot. “Brent helped Amahl escape after the assassination. Then he helped kill three of his guys. Buried 'em beneath a farm house.”

Levi studied him with half-lidded eyes. “Where?”

“Virginia.”

Only a handful of Federal agents knew of the discovery, therefore Jackson could not have known about the kill unless Kruger had told him. But this could be a calculated loyalty test. He pinned Jackson with an icy stare. “That makes you an accessory after the fact to the assassination and the killings.”

Jackson looked at Levi anew. “He threatened to kill me if I said anything.”

“But now you're a player in a second assassination conspiracy.”

“Duress,” Jackson kicked at the dirt. “Even if it's not duress, I'd rather spend the rest of my life in prison than be skinned alive—and he'll do it.”

Levi had to agree with him on that. “What else?”

“Brent got a large shipment of Semtex.” He peered at Levi. “Know what that is?”

“Czech-manufactured plastic explosive.”

“So you are an agent.” Jackson glanced over his shoulder. “Okay. We went to the desert to test a sample. But these two wetbacks saw us, so Kruger shot 'em. He buried 'em right there.”

If that was true then Jackson had sealed his fate by divulging that information. There was but one way to determine his credibility. “Where're they buried?”

Jackson described the route to the test site and the location of the bodies.

Levi stood still, solid as a battleship. “Okay. Tell me more.”

“Brent's got me building IEDs. They'll be timed to detonate beneath high-speed trains out of New York City. There's more. We'll have car bombs parked at six key Federal banks. Everything detonates when Kruger moves against Cohen.”

“What's the plan?”

Jackson scowled. “I don't know all the details. Kruger holds his cards close. All I know is that he'll use a mortar hidden inside some kind of truck.”

“Fine. We put you in protective custody, arrest Kruger and prevent the attacks.”

Jackson chewed at his lip, then dropped the bomb. “But then you'll miss Amahl.”

The president planted his elbow on the chair arm and rubbed his jaw, then said to Baker, “I agree with you in principle but the Secret Service won't stand for it.” They were in his private office, the light from the small green desk lamp bouncing off various sheets of briefing papers laid out atop the black leather blotter.

Baker tilted his head to one side. “But Levi listened in on that phone conversation. It's my recommendation that we let Kruger take his people all the way to D.C.”

“You can forget that. The Service wants to cancel the May eighth observance and I'm forced to agree.” He scowled. “If it was only me I'd say bring it on, but a dozen civilians died alongside Melchior. I won't place innocent bystanders in jeopardy.”

Levi's body clenched. “
Amahl
?”

“He's supposed to show up during the attack.” Jackson frowned. “I don't know how or when, but he will show.”

Levi recalled Kruger's reference to a “party” during his conversation with Amahl and considered the options. He could coordinate with the FBI, write the search warrant applications and shut down the entire operation—but, say adios to a chance to capture Amahl. Another thing—Kruger operated within multiple layers of compartmented sleeper cells. They might chop off the head by shutting down the local ops but the rest of the snake would twist and writhe on its own. They had to see this through.

He couldn't help but think that if Susan hadn't barged in he
might never have learned of Amahl's pending appearance. Everything happens for a reason, including the deaths of his wife and son. Now he had to get rid of Jackson. But that posed a problem. If he went missing Kruger might panic and cancel the operation, and farewell Mr. Amahl. Levi saw only one solution—he had to kill Jackson. Otherwise Kruger would forever feel threatened. He made his decision and leaned into Jackson. “Give me your hat.”