Chapter Twenty-One
ark Dewitt was on high
alert. Every nerve cell in his body was jumping.
The virus was missing and Adil was refusing to
say a word.
He was standing in a
makeshift interrogation room, still within the Nava Drug Corp building, where
they had taken Adil. Two other SEAL Team Fourteen members and three
high-ranking FSB agents were in the room as well.
Mark’s team and the FSB
agents had methodically checked and cleared the remaining rooms in the
facility. The noncombatant women workers had all been removed from the
building without any mishap. They had been packed into a couple of vans, and
were now en route to the FSB’s headquarters in Moscow for questioning.
Dozens of other FSB agents were still scouring the
floors and grounds of the pharmaceutical facility. These agents were in the
process of bagging all of the computers and electronic devices in the building
for further examination at a government secured laboratory.
Mark had sent five of
his best men to comb the expansive woods surrounding the pharmaceutical
facility. The facility sat on thirty acres of land. Malook remained
uncaptured even though the FSB had already set up roadblocks that they were
carefully monitoring.
One of the worst case scenarios at this point would
be that Malook had actually somehow managed to slip the perimeter that had been
setup to contain the targets.
“Where’s the virus, Adil?” Khalid asked the man who
was tied to a wooden chair at the center of the room. The transformation that
Khalid had undergone within the past few minutes was astounding. In their
earlier warehouse briefing session, Khalid had looked more like a
cubicle-bound, number crunching, computer whiz than a CIA agent.
Now, however, the deadly
gleam in his eyes and the purposeful expression that Khalid had on his face as
he questioned Adil was that of a seasoned intelligence agent.
“You’ll never find it in time,” Adil said with a
smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Based on psychology profiles that the FBI
counterintelligence unit had completed on Haseem Adil, Saverin Tarasov, and
Adib Malook weeks earlier, Mark knew that each of the three men had sociopathic
tendencies.
In addition, Adil appeared to be motivated into
joining the radical Islamic Jihad movement because of a U.S. drone strike in
the early 2000s that had sadly killed his sister and young son. He was also
the most likely of the men to maintain steadfast to his intractable beliefs.
Rolling up his sleeves,
Khalid punched Adil in the face multiple times, knocking the man’s head to his
right side. He then followed up with a few hard, bone-jarring punches to
Adil’s sternum.
The man wheezed,
violently coughing up some blood and spitting out a chipped tooth before
turning his head back to stare at Khalid.
The CIA agent pulled a big,
deadly looking hunting knife out of a bag. He then turned back to face the
bound terrorist before him. The eerie glow of the fluorescent lights—the
electricity had been turned back on for the building—gleamed off the sharp
knife that Khalid held between his hands.
Adil just sat there unmoving, glaring back at
Khalid. He was smiling, but sweat was rolling down his sallow cheeks in large
beads.
“Where’s Adib Malook?” Khalid tried again.
Khalid’s question was only rewarded with a few swear words from Adil that were
muttered out in Arabic.
Khalid laughed at the other man before saying, “Do
you kiss your mother with that mouth?”
Mark watched as Khalid calmly took out and lit a
small butane torch. The light from the torch came out in an eerie blue glow.
The torch was small and wouldn’t have been out of place on the average person’s
kitchen counter along with other appliances. However, Khalid wasn’t going to
be using this torch to caramelize a crème brûlée.
Khalid touched the flame
to the knife and slowly moved it alongside the long edge of the blade. The FSB
agents decided that this was their cue to make their exit from the room. They
walked out of the door and closed it behind them.
Khalid then moved back to stand directly in front
of Adil, whose confidence was just beginning to falter. His eyes were darting
back and forth from Mark and then to Khalid. He was actually beginning to show
signs of worry. So the guy was smart after all. Observing the vacant expression
on Khalid’s face, the man had every reason to worry.
“Now Haseem, I recognize that in times like this
you may get a little nervous. That’s perfectly understandable. We’re both
under a lot of stress right now. But we don’t have to do this the hard way.
Trust me . . . you don’t want to do this the hard way. I’m a reasonable
person, so I’m going to give you another chance to cooperate. Just one more
chance to try this again,” Khalid warned the man in a quiet, dangerous voice.
Damn
. This was really going to suck. More so for Adil, but still . . . Extracting
information from high-value detainees was one of the least pleasant aspects of
their jobs.
Adil started up his
onslaught on Khalid again in Arabic. The prisoner was talking quickly, but
Mark was able to translate most of what he was saying. Adil was accusing
Khalid of being a traitor to Islam—an infidel who was now beholden to America.
“The only traitor here
is you. You are a disgrace to the religion that you profess to love. You are
a shame to every person that appreciates the sanctity and the intrinsic value
of human life,” Khalid said back to Adil in Arabic. This time, Adil didn’t say
anything to try to defend himself. The bound man just stared back at Khalid.
“What would your son
have thought of the man that you have become? A killer of innocent men, women
and children?” Khalid asked. This time Adil reacted. Sort of. If he hadn’t
have been restrained, the man probably would have leapt from his chair and
tried to kill Khalid.
As it were, Adil shifted
upwards in his seat, almost turning over in the chair. Adil’s hands strained
against his restraints as his arm muscles bunched up in protest. “Don’t you
dare mention my son,” he choked out in broken English. The coloring in his cheeks
had changed from a light brown hue, to a deep, angry red. He looked like he
was about to explode with rage.
“Sir, we’ve got Malook,” Joshua’s voice cut in over
the static in Mark’s headset.
Mark Dewitt motioned for
Khalid and the other team members to join him out in the hall.
“Mark, we don’t have a
lot of time to get the information out of him about where the virus was taken .
. .” Khalid started.
Mark cut Khalid off
before he could finish the statement. “Yeah, I know Khalid. Joshua repeat
what you just said to everyone.” Mark took off his military tactical headset
and turned up the speaker volume so that the men around him could hear.
“Will, Jesse, and I have
Malook, sir,” Joshua repeated. “We caught the bastard trying to hightail it
out of here along the northwest corner. The roadblocks deterred him from
crossing over the highway. We found him crouched down behind the trunk of a
large oak tree. He had a briefcase on him. The briefcase has a very small
cold transport device that contains three vials of a currently unidentified
substance. We think the vials contain the smallpox. We’re bringing him in
now.”
“Good work men. Do not
let those vials out of your possession or sight for even a second,” Mark
ordered. Mark looked over at Khalid. The other man blew out a breath of what
could only be classified as pure relief.
Khalid cleared his
throat before saying what was probably the understatement of the year. “Talk
about cutting it close. Looks like it is Adil’s lucky day after all.”
Mark didn’t say it, but he thought that it was
probably Khalid’s lucky day too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
t was over.
At
least for now.
Dr. Kale from the
CDC had arrived from Atlanta into Moscow shortly after the SEAL team had
arrived in Sokol. The scientist had positively confirmed that the substance in
the three vials as being smallpox. The samples had indeed been altered into
its hemorrhagic form.
As soon as they had
received the confirmation, Joshua and his team had proceeded with destroying
the virus.
Joshua had been fortunate to spot Malook when he had. Apparently,
the man had dug a hide in the snow. They had had FSB agents circling the
grounds, but those agents had missed Malook’s hiding place. Hiding in his
cover until the FSB agents had passed him, he had then attempted to make a
break for it. It had been an honest mistake, but if the SEALs hadn’t doubled
back, the whole situation could have ended a lot differently.
After sweeping the basement of the facility for the second
time, the SEALs had discovered a makeshift tunnel that had been camouflaged by
an iron metal façade that blended in with the flooring. The team had been able
to surmise that it was through that tunnel that Malook had made his escape shortly
after the SEALs had stormed the building.
It was providence that Commander Dewitt and one of the lead
FSB agents had had the forethought to set up an extensive roadblock, just in
case one of the terrorists managed to get out of the building without
detection.
Now, both Adil and Malook were on a plane express for a
secure U.S. federal facility where agents would detain them for further
questioning. After which, both of the men would be prosecuted for their parts
in the crimes. A team of special agents who were highly trained in high-value
detainee interrogation would be taking over the questioning. The evidence
against both of the men was overwhelming.
They were both going to be going
away for a long time.
The SEALs weren’t the only ones happy about the successful
takedown operation. The FSB agents were also elated. They had been able to
recover half a ton of processed and cut heroin in the pharmaceutical building, and
they had dozens of eyewitnesses in the form of the women who had been working
at the facility.
The confiscated
heroin's street value was worth close to $50 million. It was an unprecedented
bust for the FSB, and it would definitely serve to send a signal to the gang
leaders of many of the drug operations that were still rampant throughout
Russia.
Dimitriv Arshavin wasn’t doing so well though. The man
was still alive, but hanging on only by a thread. Dimitriv had been
transported to a hospital in Moscow where doctors had placed him in a medically
induced coma in order to aid in the healing process. It was unclear whether
Dimitriv would ever wake up and, if so, what condition he would be in. He’d
lost a lot of blood and had had his oxygen supply interrupted for an unknown
amount of time. If he ever woke up, it was quite possible that he would have
significant brain damage.
The only downside to the overall success of their operation
was that Saverin Tarasov remained uncaptured and was now officially in the
wind. The FSB and FBI counterintelligence unit had immediately sent out
international BOLO requests, complete with color photographs of Tarasov. But
given Tarasov’s extensive resources he could be anywhere in the world by now.
With their key mission completed, however, Team Fourteen
was now on a plane express to the United States. Even though they’d achieved
their objective, it had been too close of a call for Joshua. If Malook had
managed to transfer the virus to another random courier there’s no telling how
long it could have taken for them to track him and the smallpox down.
He
shuddered to think about the tragic ending that could have occurred if Malook
and Adil had managed to transport the virus out of Russia and into the United
States.
****
“Hey Josh,” Victoria said, watching Joshua close the door
behind himself.
Victoria was sitting on the couch in a new black silk robe,
pink pearl necklace, with a black negligee underneath that she had picked up
from Victoria’s Secret earlier that day. The lights in the living room were
off, but she had lit candles. He was surprised. She could tell by the look on
his face. His dark brown hair was slicked back from the rain that had been
falling steadily for the past few hours. He was still wearing his military
fatigues and had a green duffle bag slung over one shoulder.
“Hey, Vicki. What are you doing here?” He smiled across
the room at her. It wasn’t a tense smile. He actually looked happy to see her
there. It was a good sign, but Victoria was still a little unsure of herself
around him.
“I wanted to surprise you,” Victoria said as she got up
off the couch and walked to him. Joshua instinctively wrapped his arms around
her, giving her a warm embrace and kissing the top of her head.
“Well you did,” he said, looking down at her.
“Is it a good surprise or a bad surprise?”
“Definitely, a good surprise.” He winked at her, giving her
another warm smile.
“I made dinner for you. It’s one of your favorites: steak
fajitas, casamiento, and curtido.” Casamiento was a traditional El Salvadoran
dish that contained a mix of rice, beans, and onions. Curtido was another
popular side dish that was essentially steamed cabbage with a dash of vinegar.
Victoria had spent hours preparing the meal for him. Joshua had always loved
the traditional El Salvadoran meals that she had cooked for him when they were
dating.
“Mmm . . . yum. It smells great in here. You did this
all by yourself?” he asked. Joshua was still holding her in his arms and
smiling down at her.
“Yes, I did,” Victoria answered proudly, smiling back up
at him. As tall as she was, Joshua still managed to be close to five inches
taller than her. Standing next to him, Victoria always felt delicate. “I
wanted to do something special for you.”
Victoria knew that Joshua was an extremely capable and
self-sufficient man. More so than most men. He was sort of a jack-of-all-trades.
Of his many talents was the ability to cook well. He had inherited the trait
from his French father. Joshua had occasionally surprised her with made from
scratch French meals while they were dating.
Her absolute
favorite was when he made her breakfast in bed. One morning, three months into
their relationship, he’d surprised her with French toast with bourbon peach
sauce, omelettes, and crepes.
“Thanks, that’s really nice of you. Tell you what, let me
wash up real quick, and I’ll be right back.”
“Sure, of course.”
Victoria watched as Joshua stripped off his jacket and
headed for his bedroom. She had gotten back a few hours earlier in time for
Joshua’s arrival back home from his mission. She’d spent part of the morning
speaking to Detective Sage about the potential that Walker Cooper, Henning’s
former business partner had been involved in the shooting. The police were
just now exploring this avenue.
Devin had at least been somewhat more forthcoming about
his police department’s investigation. He mentioned that in his original
interview with Walker Cooper, Cooper had adamantly stated that he had not been
at the crime scene at the time of Henning’s shooting.
It was a telling
lie on his part, but as Devin had pointed out, they still did not have any
evidence that placed the murder weapon in Cooper’s hands.
In fact, other witnesses who were right in the area when
the gunfire started, but quickly ran away from the scene, had finally been
tracked down and interviewed.
These new witnesses
stated that the culprits were definitely two people on a black motorcycle who
opened fire on the luckless quartet. Devin admitted, however, that the
eyewitnesses’ statement didn’t preclude the possibility that Walker Cooper had
paid someone to kill his business partner.
One of the only things that Devin felt comfortable about
confirming to Victoria was that the DEA was also investigating Walker Cooper
about the drugs that were found in one of the Henning Cooper Company’s
tankers. However, instead of prescription drugs—which is what Victoria had
originally thought—the investigation actually involved the transport of heroin
for sale and distribution in the United States.
Devin made it clear that it was quite possible that the
Dallas Police Department would never have enough evidence to connect Walker
Cooper to Henning’s killing. Nonetheless, the police were developing large
amounts of data on Cooper’s involvement to the heroin shipments that agents
from the U.S. Coast Guard had found in his company’s tankers.
Victoria was in the process of finishing her headline
story on the federal drug investigation for her editor. It was poised to hit
newsstands in a couple of days. The story would be her first front-page
article. Edward had already mostly forgiven her for working on her
unauthorized project into Henning’s business operations—mainly because this new
news story was gold.
When Joshua got out of the shower, Victoria was sitting at
the kitchen table, waiting for him.
He had thrown on a linen shirt and
shorts. He must have taken a piping hot shower because when he opened the door,
a plume of steam floated out of the doorway.
Walking over to the
table, he leaned down and gave her a kiss on the top of her head before giving
her a deep kiss on the lips. Victoria reached her hands into his hair; his
dark locks were still damp.
“I forgot to
mention this earlier, but you look beautiful,” he said as he sat down in the
chair opposite of her at the small wooden dining table.
“Thank you.” God
she was blushing, she could feel the heat spreading out from her nose to her
cheeks and then to the tips of her ears. She hated when she blushed. She
looked like she had beet juice on her face whenever she blushed. Not to
mention, it made her feel like she was a nervous sixteen-year-old girl again,
who nearly fainted anytime the captain of the football team looked in her
direction. Joshua only winked at her, as if he could read her thoughts. He
reached across the table and took her hand.
“No, thank you for
doing this for me. It was very nice of you to think of it.”
“My pleasure. I’m
just glad that your mission went well and you’re okay.”
“So what did you
get into while I was away?” he asked as he dove into some of the food on his
plate.
“I’ve been working
on the Richard Henning murder investigation and his subsequent killing.”
“Oh yeah?” Joshua
paused, taking a sip of the Dos Equis Amber Lager that Victoria had set out for
him earlier. “What did you find out?”
“I’m not sure. I
had an interesting interview with a crime scene witness in Dallas who works at
one of the restaurants across the street from where Henning died. She says
that she saw Walker Cooper standing outside of the store during the time of the
shooting.”
“Who is Walker
Cooper?”
“He’s Henning’s
business partner. Well, he was Henning’s business partner at the time of Henning’s
death.”
“Did he have a
meeting with Henning after your interview?”
“I’m not sure.
It’s possible. But the weird thing is that my contacts inside of the Dallas
Police Department are saying that in their initial interview with Cooper, he
denied having seen Henning in the two weeks leading up to his death. He also denied
being anywhere near the shooting. The eyewitness that I spoke to is very
reliable, and is adamant that she saw him there right before the shooting. So
why would Cooper lie about being at the scene?”
“Yeah, it’s odd
that he would lie about his being there. Do you think he’s somehow involved in
the murders?”
“I’m not sure, but
his lying looks bad. On the other hand, no statements from any of the eyewitnesses
put the gun in his hands. The police have evidence that Henning and his guards
were killed by two individuals who sped off on a motorcycle.”
“Even if the Cooper
didn’t shoot Henning himself, he still could have orchestrated the crime. Do
you know what Cooper’s potential motive would be for hiring to have someone
kill Henning?”
“I’ve been thinking
about that,” Victoria said as she bit her bottom lip. Gazing over at Joshua,
she saw that he had already finished his first serving and was starting to heap
more of the steak fajitas and side dishes onto his plate. “From what I can
tell, the Henning Cooper Company is doing well financially. The only problem
that they have is the federal drug investigation. Both men were being
investigated at the time of the shooting.”
“So you’re thinking
that Cooper ordered someone to kill Henning so he could later pin the whole
drug smuggling operation on his dead partner?” he asked, raising his eyebrow.
“I know it’s
extreme. But you know what they say, ‘dead men don’t tell tales.’ With
Henning out of the way, Cooper is free to spin whatever story he wants to spin
about why agents found heroin in the Henning Cooper Company’s tankers. And
more importantly, he can tell the police his version of who put the heroin in
the tankers.” Victoria watched Joshua take another sip of his beer. He stared
at her but didn’t comment.
