Greene's Calling: Seventeen Book Three (A Supernatural Action Adventure Thriller Series 3) (14 page)

A voice chimed in, its tone skeptic.

‘What makes you think this is an organization rather than a couple of radicals who had it in for the president?’ said the Homeland Security lead agent, a guy called Petersen.

‘This was a sophisticated plan,’ said Laura. ‘President Westwood has made many enemies since he came into office, both on the domestic and international scenes. The list of possible suspects is long.’ She glanced at Conrad with a neutral expression. ‘What Greene hasn’t told you yet is that he came across an envelope recovered from a plane crash in Brazil two days ago. It was inside a briefcase that belonged to one of the four killers who had been assigned to this assassination and contained encoded information and detailed maps of the stadium.’ She indicated the second display terminal that lit up next to the first one. ‘Greene also found ten photographs inside that briefcase. They were all of US Secret Service agents assigned to the president’s security detail.’ Surprised mumbles erupted around the room when pictures of the envelope’s contents appeared on the screen.

‘Is that the encoded information that led you to the killers’ positions?’ said Petersen.

‘Yes,’ said Conrad. ‘Though it never gave us the location of the fourth killer.’

‘Hmm,’ murmured Donaghy. ‘It seems an elaborate way to get the information across.’

‘We believe the assassins were hired to work independently of each other,’ said Laura. ‘Hence the need to get the message through to each of them in an encoded format for which they would already have been given a key and an indication of which of the passages to take as their position. We think the haiku was written specifically to indicate the date the attempt should take place.’

Conrad’s gaze darted over the assembled agents. He chose his next words prudently. ‘The format of these instructions tells us something about the enemy we are facing: they like theatrics.’ He paused, deliberately. ‘And they didn’t know when they were going to act until a few days ago.’

He watched the meaning behind his words sink in.

Donaghy’s face darkened. ‘That means we have a mole, doesn’t it?’

‘How so?’ said Petersen, the Homeland Security agent.

‘The security details for the FedEx Field fundraiser were only confirmed last week,’ said Laura in a flinty tone. ‘They included the exact routes we were going to take to deliver President Westwood and extract him in an emergency.’

‘Shit,’ muttered Lewis. The FBI agent’s eyes scanned the faces of his colleagues, his posture stiff.

‘Rest assured, we’re looking for the traitor in our midst,’ said Connelly. ‘In the meantime, we continue to work as a team.’ Her voice held a hint of a warning.

‘I agree,’ said Conrad. ‘Our focus needs to remain on finding out the identities of these people.’

Knowing that they were going to have to watch their backs because of the possible double agent inside their circle would make cooperation between the different organizations involved in the investigation fraught. Conrad felt a sudden rush of gratitude for Connelly’s presence.

‘The body of the killer who died in the plane crash is with the medical examiner in Manaus,’ the immortal continued. ‘We need to retrieve it and get it examined by our people, along with the body of the assassin who was killed at the stadium today. We have to ID these two men fast. Although we believe them to be contract killers, their associates may be able to help with our investigation.’ His gaze flickered to the Director of National Intelligence. ‘The assassin who was captured has had his injuries treated and is being held at a secure location. So far, he’s refusing to talk.’

The NSA agent, a man called Franklin, raised an eyebrow. ‘Haven’t we been able to establish who they are from their biometrics?’ he said, incredulous.

Anatole shook his head. ‘Nope. Both the dead guy and the prisoner were wearing artificial skin membranes imprinted with fake prints taken off US soldiers who died in combat in Afghanistan. The killers’ palms and own fingertips looked like they’ve been surgically modified. Even if these guys were on any databases, you wouldn’t be able to identify them now. So far, we’ve had zero hits on TIDE, NCIC, hell, even Interpol.’ He grimaced. ‘The facial recognition software gave us zilch as well. We believe they went under the knife to have their features altered.’

‘So we know they may have connections in Asia,’ said Donaghy. ‘It’d be difficult to get our dead soldiers’ prints without someone doing it locally.’ The CIA agent’s eyes grew narrow. ‘Of course, they could have broken into the US Armed Forces database to obtain that information, but I seriously doubt it. The security protocols and firewalls have been heavily enhanced in the last ten years.’

‘There have been no intelligence reports from the NCC, the NSA, the TTIC, the NIC, or the DIA to suggest there was an impending domestic or international threat,’ said Connelly. She rubbed the back of her neck and sighed. ‘As much as I hate to admit it, we’re working blind here, people.’

A taut silence ensued. Conrad did the math and unraveled the acronyms. The enemy was seriously sophisticated if they had managed to coordinate this assassination without hitting the radar of the National Counterterrorism Center, the National Security Agency, the Terrorist Threat Integration Center, the National Intelligence Council, or the Defense Intelligence Agency.

Donaghy leaned forward, her eyes bright as she stared at Conrad. ‘You said there were three stems to this investigation. What are the other two?’

The immortal smiled faintly. He liked the CIA representative’s zeal. ‘Our second priority is to analyze and trace the origins of the weapons and ammunitions the killers used.’ A third screen flared brightly into life, and several forensic photographs appeared across the screen. ‘These are no ordinary guns,’ he explained as excited whispers rang across the table. ‘As far as we’re aware, there is no patent in existence for these firearms, and they are not in production or circulation in any country in the world. Initial inspection shows that they are made of some sort of carbon-fiber-reinforced plastic. The bullets are ceramic, encased in a malleable jacket for grip in the rifling. Both the weapons and the ammunition were designed for easy assembly and dismantling, and created explicitly to evade metal detectors.’ He frowned at the display. ‘Judging from their composition, they were very expensive to make and were likely never intended to last hundreds of shots, which means that the enemy has the funds and the ability to either manufacture such firearms or outsource the job to specialists.’

The assembled agents digested this information with a range of wary looks that mirrored the immortal’s own apprehension, which had doubled when he’d come to that conclusion a short while ago.

‘The third element of this investigation is the most complex,’ said Laura. ‘Despite what Director Connelly has stated about the lack of information from the intelligence community, we need to look at all the available data again.’ A low groan escaped the NSA guy’s lips. Laura
glanced at him with a frown. ‘We’re looking for isolated events that may suggest a pattern of threat against the United States and, in particular, the person of the president. Spread the word to your individual teams. However insignificant a detail may seem to the analysts assigned to this task force, I want to know about it.’

‘Vassili and I are going to talk to the suspect,’ said Conrad. ‘Agent Hartwell will start looking at the surveillance data and the findings of the preliminary site investigation at the FedEx field. CIA and NSA, you’re on intel. FBI and Homeland have the bodies and the guns.’ His eyes shifted briefly to the Sit Room Director. ‘The president is allowing us to use this place as our command post. All incoming data is to be pooled here.’ He stood back from the table. ‘Meeting’s over. Let’s go, people.’

The agents dispersed rapidly, their movements full of urgency and purpose as they headed out the room amidst a low rumble of conversation. Someone spoke quietly behind Conrad as he started toward the door with Anatole.

‘I may have underestimated you, Greene,’ said Sarah Connelly.

Conrad stopped and turned to observe the inscrutable look on the face of the Director of National Intelligence. ‘Look, I don’t blame you,’ he said bluntly. ‘I would have reacted the same way if I were in your shoes.’

A faint smile flashed across Connelly’s lips. ‘Agent Stevens will take you to the facility where the prisoner is being held.’ Her expression hardened. ‘Don’t disappoint me, Greene.’

The two immortals walked out of the room and made for the flight of stairs at the end of the corridor.

‘I think she likes you.’ Anatole grinned and waggled an eyebrow. ‘You always did have a way with the ladies.’

‘Not all the ladies,’ retorted Conrad.

Anatole sobered. ‘That’s true.’ He sighed. ‘It breaks my heart to see the two of you still like this. Christ, it’s been three hundred years already! Don’t you think it’s about time you kissed and made up?’

‘Some things are hard to forgive,’ said Conrad quietly. Following the earth-shattering discovery of his hitherto unknown ability thirteen months ago, the immortal had often reflected bitterly on how different his life and that of the woman he loved would have been had he possessed that wondrous skill at the time they both needed it the most.

A sad light flitted in Anatole’s eyes. He opened his mouth for a riposte, thought better of it, and remained silent. They emerged through the West Wing basement entrance and crossed a sunlit car park to a stationary black Suburban. The US Secret Service agent who had been in the back of the president’s limo stood waiting for them in a fresh suit, his expression concealed behind a pair of sunglasses.

‘Stevens,’ Conrad acknowledged with a nod.

The man turned wordlessly and climbed behind the steering wheel. Conrad took the seat beside him and Anatole got in the back. The agent guided the SUV to one of the West Executive Avenue security gates.

‘How far is this place?’ said Conrad.

‘It’s four miles southwest of our current location,’ Stevens replied in a clipped tone.

They left the White House grounds and turned south on 17th St. Stevens drove toward Independence Avenue and took the ramp onto Interstate 395 South. The waters of the Potomac River glittered below them as they crossed the George Mason Memorial Bridge into Arlington County.

Conrad studied the limestone facade of the Pentagon rising pallidly against the sky in the distance to their right, its walls foreboding in the brilliant daylight.

Stevens took the exit toward Alexandria and came off the highway. He turned left at a busy junction and guided the Suburban through the network of high-rise buildings and avenues that made up the urban village of Crystal City. He took a couple more corners before entering a narrow service road. They slowed outside the back of a nondescript, multistory complex and entered the dark mouth of an underground tunnel.

A security barrier appeared in the Chevy’s headlights. It was manned by an armed guard in a booth. Stevens braked and lowered the window. He flashed his Secret Service ID at the sentinel and indicated Conrad and Anatole cursorily. ‘They’re with me.’

The two immortals held up the temporary badges they had been granted by the White House security staff. The guard scrutinized the cards closely before operating the barrier. Stevens drove down the ramp and parked the Suburban at the end of a large underground garage. The immortals exited the vehicle after the agent and followed him across the concrete floor toward a lift.

Conrad glanced around the sub-basement as he walked in Stevens’s steps. The parking lot was full of government cars and SUVs. The agent punched a code into the biometric security display in the wall next to the elevator and pressed his hand against the electronic window on the screen. A beep sounded from the panel and the lift doors opened. They entered the metal cage.

‘Have you got similar security on the ground floor entrances of the building?’ said Conrad as the steel panels closed with a metallic whoosh.

‘Bar the main reception and the fire exits, yes,’ replied Stevens. ‘There’s a private medical center on the third level. It’s where the suspect’s injuries got treated. The holding cells and interview rooms are higher up.’

The elevator opened on the top floor. They exited the cabin and walked out into an airy lobby. A glass wall overlooked the George Washington Memorial Parkway and the Ronald Reagan National Airport to the east.

An armed woman in a suit sat behind the security station at the far end of the foyer. A pair of metal doors framed the wall on either side of her.

Stevens removed his sunglasses and strolled toward the desk. ‘We’re here to see the prisoner.’

The woman wordlessly passed them a digital tablet. They scanned their badges across the ID reader at the top. She checked the data that came up on the monitor in front of her and entered a code on the keyboard.

‘Go through,’ she said in a crisp tone. ‘He’s in the last interview room.’ The door on the left swung open with a faint pneumatic hiss.

Conrad and Anatole headed through the opening after Stevens. A wide, windowless corridor lit with fluorescent strips lay on the other side. Touch-sensitive keypads guarded the locks on the doors lining the passage.

Anatole eyed the security system with a grin. ‘Cool. I kinda feel like I’m in a spy movie.’

Stevens gave him a look.

‘What? It’s a compliment,’ said Anatole, shrugging at Conrad’s expression.

A door opened near the end of the corridor. A woman in gray nurse’s scrubs and a stethoscope around her neck stepped out with a digital blood pressure monitor in hand. She acknowledged the three men with a dip of her chin and started to walk past them.

Stevens moved into her path. ‘How’s he doing?’

The woman stopped and looked up with a small smile. ‘He’s a bit woozy from the pain meds, but his obs are stable.’

A man in a suit appeared in the doorway of the room the nurse had just exited. ‘Oh. It’s you,’ he said when he spotted Stevens. ‘Come on in.’

‘Excuse me,’ murmured the nurse. She sidestepped around them and headed for the security door they had come through.