Pestilence (Jack Randall #2) (13 page)

“What about Eric?”

Jack shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Okay, Jack.” Sydney gathered up her pile of photos. “What about the bodies?”

“Bag ’em up and seal them as evidence. Find a cold locker on the Mercy and put a guard on it.”

“Won’t that raise some questions?” Bradford asked.

Jack smiled. “Let’s hope so.”

•      •      •

“The agent is safe?” Kimball asked.

“I think so,” the Deliveryman replied.

“You
think
so? What happened? You told me you had sufficient funds and personnel.”

“We used most of the funds for the deserters and the equipment. The personnel we brought in for a share of the take. They weren’t very well trained, but we didn’t have a lot of time to shop around. The truck ran them down. One of my guys managed to place a charge in the truck. It blew the cargo to hell and back and the truck burned for over an hour. I feel confident the agent is destroyed. The man was shot trying to flee the scene. There’s only myself left.”

“No one who can be traced back to you?”

“I finished off the one survivor myself. He didn’t have time to say anything.”

Kimball pondered this for a moment while the Deliveryman waited. He didn’t ask about the other men. He knew they were untraceable, but the locals were no doubt in a computer somewhere or just known by sight to the local police. It was something to be concerned about. Unfortunately, there was little he could do. Stealth and secrecy were still their best options. There was always his hole card if things went really wrong. The Deliveryman was not aware of that asset.

“Get out of there. Head for Nairobi and stay at the safe house there until I contact you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kimball pushed a button, breaking the satellite link before cradling the receiver. Drumming his fingers on his desk he thought of his options. The two dead operatives didn’t cross his mind other than a brief thought of how fast they could be replaced. Two dead men were nothing in this operation. He had to focus on the main objective. It was the big picture to beat all big pictures.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. He was inspecting the Level-4 bio lab in thirty minutes. That gave him just enough time to make the needed calls he needed and still stay on schedule. He couldn’t afford to interrupt production any longer than was planned.

•      •      •

Eric rubbed his eyes for the fourth time in the last few minutes. He considered reaching for the aspirin bottle that beckoned him from the shelf next to his computer, but thought better of it when he remembered how his gut had ached the night before. He was still compiling information at the embassy, but the parts where coming in slower now. At least it kept the air conditioning inside longer. He was surprised the van kept running. It had sat in place since they had gotten here, much like Eric.

At least he had the internet. A high speed satellite connection, installed in the van, allowed him to run serial numbers through various databases in an effort to track down the van. The answers came slowly and Eric resisted the temptation to snoop around in places he didn’t really belong. Playing video games would just be insulting to the people out digging in the hot sun. So, he checked and double checked his work, sent a few emails to motivate the people on the other end, and basically forced himself to be patient.

But it wasn’t easy. Sydney and Bradford had given him the full story on the ambush, and as much as he was relieved everyone was all right, he craved being out there with them—not staring at a computer screen all day. The program could be run by almost anybody at this point as he had refined it to be very user-friendly. Although the Bureau was using it for free at the moment, Jack had advised him to approach the subject with the bean counters when they got back. He had even given him a phone number of a business lawyer in DC to call. Eric had already called him from the van, and after dropping Jack’s name, an appointment was set up for whenever he got back to DC. Eric smiled when he thought about it. Evidently Jack was still a businessman, too.

A prompt on his screen started flashing and interrupted his thoughts. He pulled himself up and clicked on the email icon. It was from Freightliner, the maker of the gas truck. He scrolled the document as he read it before finally getting to the part he needed. Eric scribbled the numbers on a scrap pad he had and then stuck the pencil in his mouth as his fingers flew across the keyboard. He soon had a list of names on the screen. He compared the names to the list he had been given yesterday.

The seventh name was a match.

Eric stabbed the button on the printer to fire it up and tapped his leg in irritation as he waited. The printer announced it was ready with a beep and Eric soon had it spitting out the information. Soon as he was done he gathered it up, put a file folder around it to protect it from sweaty hands, retrieved his sunglasses from the shelf next to the aspirin, and bolted out of the van. He stumbled as he was blinded by the noon sun.

A five minute search finally located Sydney and Bradford watching two Marines pulling something out of a pile of rubble. They both looked happy. Before he could say anything they pulled the object onto a nearby table and began prying it apart.

Eric couldn’t help but ask, “What is it?”

“The last camera,” Sydney replied. “The one with the best view of the bombing. If the data card isn’t destroyed, we may just get a few clues out of it.”

Bradford smiled also as he forced the housing open with a crowbar. “Looks like it’s okay. It was only a few feet from where your software said it would be. Nice job.”

Eric shrugged. “Thanks.”

Sydney stopped looking at the camera as if finally noticing Eric. “What brings you out here in the dirt?”

Eric held up the papers he had. “Take a look at this.” Eric laid the file down on the cleanest corner of the table. They looked over his shoulder as he pointed out various things. He turned pages for them to keep them clean.

“We need to find Jack,” Sydney said.

“Now?”

“Right now.”

•      •      •

Jack was currently pacing in his hotel suite, trying to see how hard he could push his ankle. Larry also had taken up the practice of working while standing, just for different reasons. He stood in the small kitchen area with papers and photos covering every surface. Jack preferred to read while he walked.

A knock on the door pulled their attention away long enough to see it open and the team walk in. They were led by Eric and the rear was brought up by Major Arusha. They were smiling.

“Tell me you found something,” Jack asked.

“We found the truck, sort of,” Eric replied.

Jack laid down his file and sank into a chair. Larry joined the group from the kitchen but remained standing. The others gathered around the coffee table where Eric laid out the file.

“We were able to find two serial numbers on the truck. Both of them were partials, but after we determined the make and model we were able to track it down to a specific production period. Then we used process of elimination to determine which trucks are someplace else. Twelve trucks from that group were shipped to Africa. I managed to account for eleven of them. This is our truck.” Eric pointed to a highlighted item.

“Okay, who owned it?” Jack asked.

Eric pulled another file from his pile and laid it out. “The truck was originally purchased by an oil company here in Tanzania. I accessed their records and found it was sold to a subsidiary and used for cross border transport. So I accessed the Tanzanian government’s vehicle registration records.” Eric paused as he glanced at the major. The man sat in his chair and made no comment. “It’s owned by Kamill Oil. A Yemeni distributor based out of Nairobi.”

“So what do we know about Kamill Oil?” Larry asked.

“They have some loose ties to extremist groups. Their owners are actually Saudi. Nothing concrete, but Homeland Security has them on their watch list. Kamill also has operations in Sudan. Curiously, their building here in Dar burned to the ground the day of the bombing.”

“You mentioned some prints?”

“The partials were merged and a possible hit came up. It’s not enough to stand up in court, but they came back to Mohammed Ahmed Al-Nasser,” Sydney said.

Sydney watched Jack closely as he took in the information. She had known him longer than the others, and as they had been a couple at one time she could read him better than anyone else. She could see the wheels turning. They were leaving.

Jack looked up and caught Sydney looking. He smiled back before addressing them.

“Very good, Eric, you get an extra dessert. Okay, people, we’re leaving. Greg, tell our pilots to warm up the jet. Bradford and Syd, I’ll need your report on the bomb and what we know up till now and we’ll have to leave a skeleton crew here to finish the recovery, so pick out your people. Eric, I need all this packaged nice and neat and ready to send to the Deputy Director in about one hour. I’ll inform the new ambassador that we’re leaving and have somebody from the State Department call Nairobi. They’re about to get visitors. Let’s go.”

Everyone rose to leave, creating a brief bottleneck at the doorway. Jack watched them for a moment before a thought occurred to him.

“Major, would you mind staying for a moment?” Jack asked.

Larry turned and gave Jack his patented one-eyebrow-raised look. Jack just waved him away so Larry left the room, shutting the door behind him.

The major walked back to his original chair and filled it. The chair groaned under the weight of the man.

“How are your injuries?” Jack asked.

“I will live. Your ankle is recovering well?”

“Yes, thank you. Major, this conversation won’t leave this room and I have no right to ask this, but I’m going to ask it anyway. Have you had any dealings with any American CIA or Special Operations people in your country?”

“I knew your CIA man at the embassy. He was an agricultural attaché, I believe is what his card read. We were not friendly, but we knew one another.”

“Anyone outside of an official capacity?”

The major paused for a moment before addressing Jack. “Mr. Randall, you are asking for a great deal of trust. We have known each other for only a short time.” He raised a hand to stop Jack before he could reply. “I, however, feel you are an honorable man. Your people obviously respect you, and your skills, shall we say, are proven. I would hope you are not using the leverage of your government’s aid to influence me.”

“I have no such power or intention, Major. I simply ask for an answer. It is your choice whether to provide it or not. We’ll just have to trust one another.”

“You ask for trust, yet your man breaks into my government’s computers?” the Major replied.

“I apologize for that. Eric is, well . . . impatient, and he was somewhat of an expert at doing that before I found him. I will have a word with him.”

They sat in silence for a moment before the major spoke. “I understand that you and your man, Larry, could have easily left me behind at the ambush site, and I may not have escaped the sniper or the explosion if you had. So I will say this first. I give you this information myself, not in my position as a government official. Do you understand what this means for me if others would know I told you this and not them?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“Then please listen closely.”

Sea level rise could cost port cities $28 trillion.
November 23, 2009—CNN
 

—NINE—

S
ydney stretched her legs and stuck her feet under the chair in front of her. As a result, her laptop almost slid off and onto the floor. Eric snatched it before it could complete its fall.

“Thanks,” she said.

“No problem. You want to share the pullout?” Eric referred to the table that folded out of the wall of the plane.

“No, I think I’ll try to get a nap in. It’s only a short flight, and it feels so good just to be clean and in the air conditioning for a change.”

“Yeah, I felt kinda guilty sitting in that van all day while you were out in the heat.”

“Good.” She smiled. “You should.”

“Not sitting with your new friend?” Eric asked with a nod toward Heather.

“No,” she whispered. “She seemed a little preoccupied for some reason. I thought I would just leave her alone.”

“Sure loves her cell phone,” Eric commented.

“What makes you say that?”

“Seems like every time I see her, she’s on it.”

“Well, she was coordinating the movement of all that stuff out of the warehouse. That would be hard in the States, probably a nightmare to get it done here in Africa. Why, is something bothering you?”

“No, I don’t know, maybe. It’s just that she seemed a little distant. I walked up to her once or twice and the phone conversation always got cut off quick. It was like she didn’t want me to overhear anything,” Eric explained.

“Were you maybe
trying
to overhear something?” Sydney teased.

“No,” Eric deadpanned.

“Well, if I were you, I’d be more suspicious of our spook. He kept disappearing for a couple of hours here and there. I don’t know if Jack knew what he was doing or not. I haven’t had time to mention it yet. I’m not sure about that guy. Maybe it’s just his CIA odor or something.”