Oath to Defend (16 page)

38

Casey grilled the steaks perfectly to each person’s preference, and the baked potatoes with toppings could have been a meal in itself. Liz’s Caesar salad was a masterpiece of simplicity with hearts of romaine, garlic-toasted croutons, olive oil, egg, lemon juice and Worcestershire sauce and a sprinkle of grated parmesan cheese.

Casey took a big bite of the salad and raised his bottle of beer in a toast. “Liz,” he said, “that’s the best Caesar salad I’ve ever had. You can cook with me anytime.” The others raised their bottles in agreement.

Liz returned the salute by raising her glass of wine. “Knowing how you enjoy your food, Mike, I’m flattered. My steak was perfect. Thank you as well.”

Bottles of cold beer were again raised in agreement.

The six members of Team Drake relaxed comfortably around the dining table in Senator Hazelton’s great room. Outside, the setting summer sun turned the tall grass on the other side of the river into a rich shade of gold. The slow moving water of the Little Deschutes River shimmered in the waning light. Soon the solar-powered lights that bordered the path down to a fire pit by the river’s edge came on.

“The evening is too nice to waste sitting inside,” Drake said. “Leave the dishes and let’s enjoy the sunset.”

As the men headed out to the deck, Liz walked to the bar near the fireplace to refill her glass of wine.

What an unusual group of men
, she thought. They were all warriors, but they weren’t like the men she had competed with when she was with the FBI. These men were respectful of each other and certainly respectful toward her. She had seen none of the one-upmanship she was used to. The team members were all comfortable with themselves, and each other.

Especially Casey and Drake, they were like brothers, she thought, and not just brothers in arms, but best friends. Pity the fool who harmed either one of them. That person would pay a heavy price for his mistake.

She looked out toward the deck. Drake was talking to the team. He was good looking, she had to give him that, but looks weren’t what she found herself attracted to. What appealed to her was his quiet strength and his confidence. The other men acknowledged these qualities in the way they deferred to his leadership, even though each of them was capable of leading if called upon. It wasn’t something Drake had to work on or consciously assert. He was just a natural leader, who happened to be very lethal when he needed to be.

She knew how dangerous he could be from the events a month ago in Portland, when he had dealt with the terrorists who had tried to kill her boss. And she knew it from the record of his military service Secretary Rallings allowed her to see before offering Drake a role as a consultant of sorts, a position as an off-the-books privateer to assist in dealing with issues of national security. As an attorney, Drake could look into matters defense contractors and corporations didn’t want the world, or their shareholders, to see when they suspected they were being probed or threatened.

Yes, she told herself, the Secretary had made the right choice when he’d reached out to Drake. She just hoped she had made the right choice, too, when she’d told him about the nuclear device they were searching for. She had to be back in Washington on Monday and was running out of time to prove Drake’s hunch was correct that the nuke was in Oregon.

She suddenly realized she’d been watching Drake for longer than she intended. Her second glass of the wonderful Oregon pinot that Drake had insisted she try was half gone. She refilled her glass and walked out to the deck to join the men.

Drake was talking about the huge steelhead trout he’d caught while fly fishing right here in the river last summer. She couldn’t help but ask if she’d interrupted another ‘fish story’.

Drake stopped talking, stared out over the river for a second. The last thing she heard was his shout, “Down!” as her glass of wine exploded in her hand.

“Rifle, twelve o’clock, across the river. Get inside!” He crawled toward Liz. Her face and neck were covered in blood.

“Liz, can you hear me?” He searched for a pulse on her neck. She was unconscious, but he saw that her chest was rising slowly with each breath. Her pulse was weak but steady.

“Mike! Help me get her inside. She’s been hit, but with the red wine all over her, I can’t tell where. Or if it’s wine or blood”

When they had pulled her across the six feet to the door, which was partly protected by the heavy log railing that ran the length of the deck, Drake let Gonzalez take over. His secondary training as a medic on his Green Beret A-team had trained him to treat gunshot wounds.

“I saw a flash off a scope directly across the river,” he told Casey in a hurried whisper as he headed inside. “Fifty yards deep in the tall grass. Go upstairs and see if you can spot the shooter. As soon as we know how Liz is, we’ll go look for him. Larry, Billy, bring the weapons down from upstairs. We might need them.”

Drake ran to the kitchen and grabbed two clean hand towels from the pantry and ran hot water over one of them before taking them to Ricardo. He saw that Liz had regained consciousness and was responding quietly to Ricardo’s questions.

“I think she hit her head when you pushed her down,” Gonzalez told him. “She has cuts on her neck and face from the glass, and I suspect more cuts on her arm and chest. I’ll know more when I clean off the wine and blood.”

“Okay. I’ll go see if Mike’s spotted the shooter.” As Drake ran up the stairs, he intercepted Montgomery and Green coming down with their weapons. Montgomery was carrying a HK416 carbine and wearing a holstered Colt .45. Green also had a Colt .45 and was carrying a Remington tactical shotgun.

“Cover the front and rear,” Drake said. “I’ll see if Mike sees anything across the river.”

He found his friend standing to the left of the window he had opened in his upstairs room. He was looking east across the river through the scope of his Remington M24A2 sniper rifle.

“I don’t see him,” Casey muttered. “He could be in the tall grass, but there’s nothing he could be hiding behind. If he’s good, he could have taken the shot from the far side of the meadow.”

“The reflection from his scope was in the middle of field, not behind it. Why just one shot?”

“Maybe he thought his target was down. Liz’s wine glass exploding probably looked like a head shot from where he was standing.”

“I’ll ask Billy to go search the area. There’s a dirt road from the highway that runs along the river right to that meadow. If that’s the way he got in there, maybe Billy can cut him off.”

“If he isn’t long gone by now,” Casey said and lowered his rifle. “Snipers don’t wait around for their escape route to be blocked.”

“Why do you think it was a sniper?”

“From where you say you saw the reflection from his scope. It’s four hundred and forty yards from here. Most hunters won’t take a shot from a quarter of a mile away. Besides, hunters don’t shoot toward houses. Killers do. Buddy, I suspect you were the target.”

Drake had to chuckle. “If I was, they’ve missed me three times today. It must have rattled them when their guy didn’t make it back from Pronghorn. You know, I think it’s time for us to rattle them a little more, whoever they are.”

39

David Barak stood on the deck of the hangar house at Sunriver, looking south toward where he now knew the meddlesome American attorney had just been shot. He swirled his favorite Glenmorangie scotch in his tumbler and listened as his shooter recounted the kill.

“It was an easy shot,” Jameel said, “straight across the river from the meadow. They were out on the deck of the log house drinking beer. His head exploded, blood everywhere. But you were right, the other men have been in the army. They took cover as soon as he went down. I couldn’t get another shot off. By the time they realized what had happened, I was half way back to the ATV I rode in on.”

Barak gave a satisfied nod. “You did well, Jameel. Return to your men in Boise and wait for me there. As soon as I finish here, I’ll join you and we’ll move everyone to our new base in Canada.”

One more day, Barak told himself as his sniper left the deck, a couple of minor adjustments to his plan, and this phase of the mission would be completed. He had to smile. It would be a hundred times more deadly than the attack on the Twin Towers. His strike in America would be the standard that all others would envy and, hopefully, copy. The underbelly of America was its infrastructure; bridges and highways, power grids and, of course, dams.

That was the genius of his plan. Well-placed demolition devices to unleash the most destructive power on the planet, nature itself. A hundred foot wall of water would rush downstream and inundate everything in its path for a hundred miles. That was an awesome weapon that he couldn’t wait to use. As he had been taught, a warrior uses the weapons at hand. In America, water and the reservoirs that collected it for hydroelectric power and irrigation were everywhere, just waiting to be used against the people who built them.

But he was growing more and more concerned about his celebrity polo player. He had been visited twice by the attorney, and even though the attorney was now dead, the woman who accompanied him was not. Perhaps worse, the men who were there when he was shot had the training to cause him trouble. If they came for Marco Vazquez, who knew what he would tell them? It was very worrying.

Barak found the number for Saleem, his Hezbollah commander, on his cell phone and waited for him to answer as he walked inside to refill his tumbler with Scotch.

When Saleem answered, he said without greeting him, “I think it would be wise for you to take our Argentine to the ranch to be with his horses until the polo match Saturday. Keep him away from people. Take his phone. I don’t want him talking to anyone. Tell him it’s in the best interest of his family that he concentrates on playing well and be focused on why he’s here.”

“That may be a problem,” Saleem said. “There’s a charity fundraiser and dinner tomorrow night. He’s supposed to attend.”

“Well, he’ll have to miss it. Call from the ranch and tell them he has the flu or something. If they want him to play on Saturday, he’ll need to rest. Tell them whatever you want. Just get him there and keep him quiet until Saturday. All I need him to do is arrive at the polo field with his ponies and the trailer they came in. He will have served his purpose.”

“Will you be at the ranch tomorrow?”

“Yes. I want to talk with the men when they return from their last practice ride. I’ll be there by sunset for the
Maghrib
prayers. Bring Vazquez to the ranch first thing tomorrow and keep an eye on him. I don’t want the attorney’s friends talking with him before Saturday.”

“Is there anything you need from me after I’m finished at the polo match?” Saleem asked.

“No my friend. You and your men have served us well and I look forward to working with you for many years to come. Leave as planned and return to San Diego. Just avoid crossing the mountains unless your car can float.”

Saleem laughed. “Don’t worry, Barak. As much as I would like to witness your success in person, I’ll wait to watch the carnage on the news.
Inshallah
.
” He disconnected.

Barak took his tumbler of Scotch and went looking for his pilot. He found O’Neil playing pool in the rec room downstairs.

“Tim,” he said in a jovial voice, “I’m feeling good tonight. Let’s celebrate. Drive over to that restaurant at the marina and get us two orders to go of their grilled baby back ribs, some ceviche with the Mexican prawns, a couple salads, and some fried ice cream. I’ll be busy tomorrow night and we’re leaving Saturday, so we’ll make this our farewell dinner.”

“Would you like me to arrange for female companionship as well?”

Barak shook his head. “I don’t need the distraction. But go ahead if you do. As long as you have my plane ready to go on Saturday, I don’t care what you do between now and then. As long as you’re discreet and don’t attract unwanted attention,” he added.

As O’Neil left, Barak walked out to the hangar and opened the exterior luggage compartment of his Beechcraft Hawker and removed two padlocked, twenty-four-inch, black nylon duffel bags. Each bag held five pounds of Semtex.

He carried these bags to the closet in the master bedroom and set them next to the smaller black nylon range bag that held his Glock 21 and HK MP5K submachine gun. It never hurt, he told himself, to have too much fire power. He knew that from experience and because most of the world’s law enforcement agencies were looking for him. The guns in the range bag were only backup, of course, if he found that he needed more than the Glock 30 he always carried in a horsehide holster on his right hip.

The Semtex was also a backup of sorts. Sooner or later, he knew they would discover where he had been staying. Before they did, he planned to level the hangar house and destroy any trace of evidence that would link him to the most lethal terrorist act in history.

40

When he walked into his bedroom, Drake found Gonzalez using saline to irrigate the wounds on Liz’s face. She was on the bed, trying to lie as still as possible. He was impressed that she didn’t flinch when the medic dabbed at the skin around the cuts on the right side of her face.

“She was lucky,” Gonzalez said without looking up. “She was holding her glass of wine at her side, level with her shoulder, not her face, when it exploded. Most of the small glass shards hit her upper arm. Only a few shards hit her neck and right cheek. If you hadn’t pulled her sideways, there would have been lots more of these shards to remove.”

Liz spoke up. “I guess that means I should be happy you knocked me down and gave me a concussion,” she said. “All I remember is how good that wine tasted and that I was glad I was the only one drinking it.”

Drake smiled. “I’ll save the rest of the bottle for you,” he said. He came closer to the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Other than a headache, not too bad right now. When he starts removing those little pieces of glass with tweezers, I think I’ll be feeling a lot worse.” Gonzalez had found tweezers in the bathroom cabinet and had already removed several large shards.

“When he gets the bleeding stopped,” Drake said, “we should get you to the hospital.”

“No. Then we would have to get the police involved, and I don’t want to spend a whole day answering questions about what I’m doing here. Ricardo assures me I’m not going to need major plastic surgery…although,” she admitted, “I was kind of looking forward to a little touch up. And you need my help if we’re going to get these creeps. I want to find that nuke. Adam, I’m starting to feel that you’re right that it’s here.”

“What about your boss? Want me to call the Secretary and fill him in?”

“Not yet. I’d like to be the one to tell him what happened.
After
I tell him we found the bomb, or whatever it is. You go do what you need to do. I’m fine. I’ve been hurt worse than this and lived.”

“Ricardo, are you okay with this? Does she need to go to the hospital?”

“Her wounds are bloody but superficial,” the medic said. “I’ll keep an eye on her concussion, but if Ms. Tough Guy says she’s okay, I can’t argue. She wants to finish this. She’s earned the right to do it.”

“Okay, then. I’ll go check on Larry and see if Billy was able to find anything across the river.”

Larry Green, the former LAPD officer, was patrolling the perimeter of the cabin when Drake found him.

“How’s Liz?” Green asked.

“She’s being brave while Ricardo picks the glass out of her face. She refuses to go to the hospital. Doesn’t want the police involved.”

“She’s tough,” Green said. “Some FBI guys I’ve met are wimps, too used to wearing suits and not getting their hands dirty. But FBI women are tough. They have to be, to put up with the BS they get from crashing the federal boys club. I think she’s right about not getting local law enforcement involved. If they found out the DHS Secretary’s executive assistant was here and wounded on their turf, they’d be changing their diapers every five minutes and taking statements from now to Christmas.”

Drake laughed out loud. “Big fan of the F.B.I., are you?”

“Got tired of fighting with them. We’d do the work, and they’d take over and get all the press.”

As they rounded the front of the cabin Montgomery, the former Green Beret sniper, drove up in one of the white Yukons. Like Green, he held his HK416 rifle down against his right leg as he approached them.

“I found where he shot from,” Montgomery said. “Right where you said he was. He was a little too anxious to get out of there, though. I found this in the deep grass.” He held up a rifle cartridge. “Seven-point-sixty-two millimeter hollow point boat tail. I’d say he was using a Dragunov, the Soviet SVD sniper rifle. That wasn’t a stray shot from some hunter.”

Drake took the cartridge. “Favorite sniper rifle used by the terrorists in Iraq and Afghanistan,” he said. “I’ve been shot at with one of those before. Let’s get inside and talk. We need to come up with a plan to flush these guys out. I’m tired of being in their sights and not knowing for sure who they are.”

He stopped at the bedroom to check with Gonzalez and found that Liz seemed to be resting. The medic had used the tweezers, and now the side of her face and neck were covered with small red cuts that had been treated with antiseptic ointment. Her right arm and shoulder were bandaged. Her lips were pressed together and her jaw was clenched, but her eyes were closed and she was breathing evenly.

“She needs some pain meds,” Gonzalez said, “but she says she doesn’t want anything. What she said is she doesn’t want to be doped up and miss all the fun. That’s one tough lady. I used the medical adhesive glue that I always carry on her cuts. It’s better than stitches and there’s less infection.” He smiled down at her. “She may have some minor scarring, but she can get that touched up later.”

“Join us in the kitchen,” Drake said. “We’ve got some planning to do.”

The others were waiting for him. Their weapons were lying on the marble kitchen countertop behind them and Casey was brewing a pot of coffee.

“It’s time we go on the offensive,” Drake started. “We know about the bunch at the ranch, and we know where Marco Vazquez is staying. But we still don’t know where the guy is that rented the Escalades. What I want to do is stir the pot and see what bubbles up. See what we can learn. Ricardo and Billy, you think you can get back to the ranch tonight and set up surveillance?”

“Sure we can,” Montgomery said.

Drake nodded. “Fine, Mike and I will trade off and guard things here tonight and keep an eye on Liz. Tomorrow, I want to put some pressure on Vazquez. He knows more than he’s told us. He might run back to the ranch. If he does, we can use the drone to listen in on conversations there. I also want pictures of the guys taking care of his polo ponies. Liz can run them through the facial recognition and iris scanning biometrics they have at DHS. Its database will tell us if these guys are terrorists or innocent polo pony grooms. I’m betting on the former.”

“What about that O’Neil who rented the Escalades?” Casey asked. “What are we going to do about him?”

“Good question. Any ideas?” Drake asked the rest of the men.

“I’m not sure how we’d do it,’ Casey said after a moment’s thought. “But Escalades come with OnStar. The rental agency can locate its vehicles that way and block the ignition or slow down a stolen car. I might be able to get one of my IT guys in Seattle to hack into the Enterprise Car Rental computer at the Sunriver airport and locate those two Escalades.”

“Do it,” Drake said. “We need to know who this guy is because he’s involved in some way. Anything else? What am I forgetting?”

“Me.” The men turned to see Liz standing just outside the kitchen. With one hand on the wall to steady herself, she came forward. “What am I going to do while you boys are finding my nuke?”

Although she looked like the right side of her face had been attacked by a swarm of angry bees, her glued-together wounds did little to hide the smile on her face as she watched the men’s reaction to her appearance. Drake was the first to reach her. He took her hand and led her to a chair.

“How’s the headache?” Gonzalez asked.

“Not too bad. I’m not dizzy or nauseous.” She sat up straighter. “What do I get to do?”

“Nothing tonight, except get a good night’s rest,” Drake said. “If you’re up to it, you can go with me to see Marco tomorrow.” He smiled. “Your wounds might scare him into telling us what he knows.”

“Thanks for confirming what I didn’t want to know,” she said, gently punching him in the stomach. “I was going to hide under a ton of makeup, but if you insist, I’ll go
au naturale
.”

“Where I come from,” Gonzalez began, “that means—”

“It means without makeup, Ricardo. Most of your women….”

“All right, gentlemen,” Drake said. “Let’s leave Ricardo’s love life out of this. It’s time to get Ricardo and Billy ready to go to the ranch. Larry, why don’t you stand guard for now while Mike calls his guy in Seattle and I get Liz a cup of coffee? Tomorrow’s game day.”

When the rest of the team had left the kitchen, Drake handed her a cup of coffee and said, “Are you sure you feel up to going with me tomorrow? No one will blame you for taking a day to get back on your feet.”

Liz took a moment to savor the sweet mellow taste of the Kona coffee Drake preferred. “I have a confession to make,” she said, looking up at him. “When I called to tell you about the detection of a nuclear device in San Diego, I really just wanted to know how you were doing. I wanted to thank you again for what you did in Portland. I never intended to get you involved like this. I never meant to put you in harm’s way again.”

He wasn’t sure how to reply. Then, “You gave me the tip about Barak being in Mexico. I’m just returning the favor. Besides, if we find your nuke and I get Barak, we both win. I used to do this kind of thing for a living. You’re the one I’m worried about being in harm’s way.”

“Adam, do you know why I joined the FBI after law school?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I joined the FBI for the same reason you enlisted in the army the day after 9/11. I chose the FBI because I knew it would be tasked with counterterrorism duties here at home. I wanted to fight them here, just like you wanted to fight them over there. I haven’t regretted my decision, either, so don’t you worry about me being in harm’s way. It’s where I want to be.”

“What about getting married?” he asked. “Having a family and kids? Do you regret missing out on that?”

She gave him a tiny smile. “I haven’t given up on that just yet. When I meet the right guy, well, then I guess I’ll have to make a choice. Hopefully, there’s a little time before I have to choose.”

“You’ll find your guy, Liz. You’re young and beautiful. I’m sure you have a hundred guys in D.C. who would love to settle down with you and raise a family.”

“Not so young and not so beautiful, especially with all these cuts on my face.” To cover feelings she felt stirring somewhere down deep, she took another sip of coffee. “You really think my face will scare Vazquez into telling us what he knows?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I just said that to encourage you to stay here and rest. You watch the way you turn heads at Pronghorn tomorrow. Tonight, you need to rest and get rid of that headache. You go ahead and sleep in my bed tonight. I’ll find a bed upstairs.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Go get Ricardo and Billy on their way. I’ll finish my coffee and then get some rest.”

After he left, she relaxed against the back of the chair. With a little luck, she might have to make her choice sooner than she had expected.