Operation Sheba (27 page)

“So Raissi and his men had to carry their explosives with them. That cuts down the amount by at least half of what a car or van could carry for them. Still…” she studied the house, “…C-4 bricks are light and easy to carry so at the very least, he’s got every door and window wired to blow and has booby-trapped the hostages.”

Lt. Brad Diamond, the direct and self-assured leader of the SEAL team spoke. “What kind of explosives does he usually use?”

“He favors Semtex or C-4, but will use anything handy.”

“What kind of detonators? Tripwires? Motion sensors? Pressure pads?”

“Tripwires would be easiest for him to transport and set up,” Julia responded, “and more effective for this type of situation.”

“The HRT can bypass the doors and windows by making holes into the walls to get in,” Agent Buchanan stated.

“That will work if Raissi hasn’t strung wires across the walls,” Julia countered. “But since he had to pack the explosives on his men, he probably didn’t have enough to layer them throughout the house. If you successfully penetrate the outside layer, there may be others, but it’s unlikely. However, he’s been dealing biological weapons ever since he worked with the GIA, and those are light enough to transport easily. There is a possibility he has anthrax or smallpox with him.”

Buchanan glanced at Chuck Atwater, who nodded his affirmation.

Julia glanced at the house again. “Have you cut power to the house?”

“Power was already cut at the pole,” Buchanan answered, “but somehow they have electricity.”

“Michael has a generator,” Julia told him.

Lt. Diamond made a note on the paper in front of him. “Why do you think Raissi has refrained from contacting us with his demands, Ms. Quinn?”

Julia cleared her throat. “He doesn’t have any.”

“No demands?” Buchanan asked. “Why would he take hostages if he has no demands?”

“He’s an anti-American Islamic fundamentalist who plans to use those hostages as an example. Bring retribution to the evil West. Like Chuck said, he wants to take out the DCI and the head of the spy group and blow something up to get the attention he wants.”

Buchanan looked down at the papers in front of him while chewing on her words. Exasperation tightened the muscles in his face. “So everyone believes this is a suicide mission?”

Of course everyone nodded.

“Agreed,” he said. “Options, anyone?” He looked at Lt. Diamond. “Lieutenant?”

Lt. Diamond looked at Senior Chief Leon Cassell. Cassell spoke. “The situation is currently stable, but obviously life expectancy for our hostages is down to days, maybe hours. Even with urban camouflage gear, the SEALs can’t get close to the house during daylight hours without alerting Raissi and his crew. Sunrise is in”—he checked his watch—“approximately two hours. We either move shortly or we’ll have to stall any plans he has until nightfall again. I don’t recommend rushing this situation, but we may not be able to stall him that long. While it’s dark, we can install microphones and possibly fiber-optic cameras at sites around the house so we can hear what’s being said and get a look inside. We can also use IR thermal-imaging cameras to approximate where the hostages and the tangos are. But if Ms. Quinn is right about the explosives, overcoming them is damn near impossible to do without serious injury to our assets.

“We can’t rule out a biological attack either. A bioterrorism group is here and ready with masks and suits.

“One more thing,” the senior chief added. “If you’re going with the theory that Raissi is our man, we need an updated picture of him. Recent pictures of all of the hostages as well. We don’t want any mistakes when the shooting starts.”

No one spoke for several long minutes, each contemplating the next few hours.

“All right,” Buchanan said, “everybody take a break. I don’t want any of you to stray far, but I do want everyone to stay fresh, so grab a cup of coffee and report back to this table in ten minutes.”

The group rose reluctantly, all except Julia. Susan walked a few yards away to consult with an aide, but her gaze stayed on Julia. Julia followed Agent Buchanan and when she thought they were out of hearing range, she laid a hand on his arm. “Sir?”

“Yes, Miss Quinn.” He poured himself a cup of coffee from a large stainless-steel drip machine.

“I know a way into the house that may help us rescue the hostages.”

Buchanan eyed her intently. “I’m listening.”

Julia took a deep breath and watched Susan watching her. “There’s a dog kennel, sir, at the back of the house…”

Chapter Forty-One

Agent Buchanan had listened intently to the information about the kennel entrance to the house, but he had forcibly rejected her reasoning that the only way to keep Pongo from raising the alert and blowing their one chance to save the hostages was for her to lead the rescue team.

Michael is going to die and it’s my fault
.

She couldn’t keep the horrifying scenarios from running through her brain. Just like when Conrad had supposedly died in the bombing of the warehouse, the bad images just kept coming.

Leaning back against the rough bark of a tree, she tried to take a deep breath, but her lungs wouldn’t fill. She’d blown Susan’s primary plan, forcing Susan to deal her next set of cards. Michael and the others were being held hostage because Julia had forced Susan to call in Raissi.

But deep inside, Julia knew she wasn’t to blame. Susan was the culprit here, not her. The supreme puppeteer was leading them all through each act as it suited her purpose.

And now Michael’s going to die
.

Julia bent at the waist, covered her face with her hands and tried to breathe.

“You look like hell.” Susan’s voice was soft as people milled around a few yards away. She leaned her shoulder against the tree and looked down at the back of Julia’s head. “Rough night?”

Julia rose to face her. “You are unbelievable,” she murmured, matching Susan’s voice level. “I can’t believe what you’ve done to all of us.”

“You played your part well, my dear, and I appreciate that. You even put Raines in the hospital, adding another crime to your list. You’re lucky I could even get you in here.”

“The only reason you haven’t had them arrest me is because Damgaard ordered you to bring me here. Where is he, by the way? Cari and I’d like to talk to him.”

Susan glared at her. “Let’s talk about Flynn. Where is he?”

Julia turned away from her and watched her counterparts filing back into the tent. Of course Conrad was the only one Susan was worried about. “Gone. Probably headed to Bermuda or the Caymans by now.”

Susan snorted. “Not a chance. He wouldn’t leave his precious queen with her back against the wall.”

“You forget. He left me before without so much as a backwards glance.”

Susan’s impatience got the better of her. “Stop playing word games. Where is he?”

Running her fingers through her hair, Julia remained cool. “You didn’t really think he’d be stupid enough to show his face here, did you?”

“He was stupid enough to let you come alone.”

“He didn’t
let
me do anything. Nobody controls me, Susan. Not Conrad and certainly not you. If you still want a piece of me, go ahead and try to get it. You’ve already failed once. This time you’ll have quite an audience watching.”

“Ah, Julia, you were always too cocky for your own good.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Your arrogant partner?” Susan snorted. “He’s hardly the best.”

“I was referring to you.”

Susan studied her for a few seconds. “I do see myself in you at times. Smart, aggressive, not afraid to seize an opportunity when it presents itself. You’re driven by the same forces that drive me so you must understand why I’ve used you and your friends to get what I want.”

“What I understand, is that you’re a manipulating bitch who has sold out her country and betrayed the people who trusted her.”

Ignoring the comment, Susan looked away. “Just tell me where Flynn and Smith are.”

“I don’t know. Probably at CIA headquarters, ransacking your office.”

“They shouldn’t waste their time. I set your boyfriend up to take the fall, and now, with the current situation, my promotion to DCI is in the bag. No one is going to walk out of that house alive, especially not Director Allen or Michael Stone.”

“I can’t believe you were devious enough to set up a hostage situation to eliminate them.”

Susan laughed. “A stroke of genius, isn’t it? The terrorist gets what he wants and provides me with a valuable opportunity to seize what’s rightfully mine.”

“What about Jurgen Damgaard?” Julia asked. “If Titus dies, the deputy DCI is next in line.”

“A minor problem.” Susan dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand.

“When this is over, Susan,” Julia whispered with detached calmness, “I’m personally taking you out.”

Susan met her stare. “If I were you, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. You’re under Damgaard’s protection right now because he’s acting director and doesn’t want anything but a positive outcome. But as soon as the hostage situation ends, Julia Torrison will be officially AWOL from the CIA and considered to be a felon. You will be taken into custody, or…” She let her voice trail off and shrugged.

Julia finished the sentence for her. “A stray bullet will find its way into my head during the counterassault.”

“I’ll talk to Damgaard and get you on Agent Buchanan’s team.” Susan smiled as she took a step back. “You want to play the hero, so be it. You’ll die with Michael and Titus and Daniel.

“It will be a shame for our country to lose such a valuable counterterrorism specialist,” she added with a false sigh, “but just think how proud your stepfather and brother will be when they learn you died in the line of duty.” Turning her back on Julia, she walked away.

Julia bent over at the waist again and put her hands on her knees. She directed her words at the microphone taped to her stomach under her loose shirt. “I hope to hell you guys got that recorded. That’s probably as close to a confession as I’ll get out of her.” Then she stopped talking at the sound of footsteps.

“You didn’t want coffee,” a man said. “So I brought you a Pepsi.”

Julia looked up and accepted the icy bottle of pop from Agent Buchanan, even though she didn’t want it. “Thank you, sir.”

“I’m glad you’re here. Until you showed up, Chief Richmond didn’t even list Raissi in our top five subjects. You seem to know a lot about him.”

Julia let out a disgusted sigh and raised her gaze to the canopy of leaves shading them. “If only I’d figured out what he was up to before this happened.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. My people didn’t figure it out either. Your input about the explosives has already saved the lives of SEALs and my HRT group. With your knowledge assisting them, they can formulate a course of action that will result in fewer dead and injured if an assault is carried out. I told Lt. Diamond and Senior Chief about your idea regarding the dog kennel and they were actually quite grateful for it. But you will not be allowed to assist them.”

Julia felt the cell phone on her hip vibrate. She ignored it. “But Pongo knows me. If I can get into the kennel with him, I can place a muzzle on him to keep him from barking at the lieutenant’s men.”

“They’ll handle the dog. He won’t be a problem.”

“He’s a guard dog, trained by Michael himself. He won’t accept treats from anyone but Michael. And me,” she added. “They’d have to shoot him to keep him from sounding an—” She broke off, understanding dawning on her. “You’re going to shoot him, aren’t you? You’re going to kill Michael’s dog.”

“The dog’s life is a small price to pay to rescue these four men.”

Julia shut her eyes, squeezing back tears that were suddenly ready to fall. The image of Pongo dead on top of everything else made her want to punch the tree, but she knew she had to keep her emotions in check. She could hear Flynn’s voice in her head,
No acting like a girl, Jules
.

Blocking the image of a dead Pongo, Julia steeled herself. “Pongo weighs one hundred twenty-five pounds. The kennel door is not big enough for most of Lt. Diamond’s men.” Technically that was a lie, because Conrad had somehow managed to squeeze through it, but if lying got her inside, she’d lie her butt off. “I fit perfectly.”

Buchanan raised an eyebrow at her. “You’ve tried it?”

Julia straightened. “I’ve spent a lot of time in that house, sir. I know every possible way in or out, and I know how to get in without raising an alarm or showing up on camera.”

Buchanan shifted his attention to look at his command center. “So the rumors are true about you and the director. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you alone. If you can give us more details about the house and the security system, it would be helpful.”

Hope sparked in Julia’s chest. “I’m sure I can help. My relationship with the director is a plus for you. It raises the odds in your favor a hundred times over
if
you use me to gain access to his house. I know for a fact Raissi’s plan does not allow for any of the three key hostages to walk away from this alive, no matter what he pretends to negotiate. When your teams approach that house and are detected, everybody dies instantly. Why risk that when I can get them in undetected?”

Buchanan cocked his head to the side and studied her. “I’m a human calculator, Ms. Quinn. I always prefer the odds of numbers over blanket statements of emotion, but you are not trained to lead a rescue team into a hostage situation.”

“That may be true to an extent, but please give me credit where credit is due. I made it through the Farm and have five years of experience as a field operator in Europe with an ex-SEAL as a partner.” Julia ticked her points off on her fingers. “I’m the expert in this group on Raissi, and I have an extensive background in explosives. I know my way around Michael Stone’s house. I know how his alarm system works and how to disable it room-by-room. And his dog would never bark at me and raise an alarm.” She took a deep breath. “My ex-partner taught me to think like the bad guys for my own survival, but he also taught me how to recognize an opportunity when I see one. You have an opportunity here, sir, to use me and save those hostages. My plan is the best one you’ve got.”

Buchanan shook his head. “Fayez Raissi and half the people here think he has the odds stacked in his favor, but I have the brightest and best hostage rescue team members ever to wear a badge. Combined with the SEALs you just sat with at that table, I have the ability to turn the tables on Raissi and lower his odds of a successful mission considerably. You’ll have to forgive me if I refuse your offer and disagree with your assumption that my counterassault teams won’t play God and work a miracle here today.”

Julia struggled mentally to figure out a way to make Buchanan understand. Rumor around Langley had it that his single personnel file had more commendations in it than all of his HRT experts combined. From what she could see, he hadn’t even broken into a sweat yet.

Confidence stemming from experience was a great asset in the field, but mistakes could still result. Especially when the playing field was skewed and the good guys had no idea who was working against them. “I know your team can and does work miracles,” she said, acknowledging the abilities of his HRT and SEALs. “But you don’t have the big picture here, Agent Buchanan. Trust me when I say I do, and the only way you’re going to work a miracle here today is to use me.”

The distinctive ring of a telephone blared from the tent, its echo vibrating off the vans around the base of operation’s table and sending all those nearby into action. Buchanan shook his head and chuckled. “Ryan Smith warned me about you,” he said and then he ran off to answer the phone.

Julia swore under her breath and ran after him.