Takedown (An Alexandra Poe Thriller) (4 page)

“You okay?”

She turned with a start, unaware Cooper had taken the seat next to her. They had served together in Baghdad but hadn’t kept in contact after her discharge, in large part because she had blamed him for a mission that had gone south and gotten people killed. But the blame was misplaced, and she had finally come to terms with what had happened.

Shane had been instrumental in helping Stonewell recruit her. In fact, he was part of the reason she had agreed to sign on.

“Alex?”

She tried a smile, but lacked the conviction. “I’m fine. Just trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing here.”

“Same as the rest of us. Making the world a better place.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“It’s on the company brochure, isn’t it?”

She laughed in spite of herself, some of her anger easing. “I wish I could be as nonchalant as you.”

He shrugged. “I’m good at hiding my rage. The right amount of alcohol and regular vacations and you’ll get good at it, too.”

“I don’t really drink and vacations aren’t my thing.”

“Not true,” he said. “What about the trip you’re taking to the Keys?”

She shook her head. “Strictly business. I’ve got some real estate I want to get rid of. I can use the extra money to help take care of Danny.”

Danny was her older brother. He had Down Syndrome and lived at a special-needs home outside of Baltimore. Alex had always felt bad about placing him there, but with their parents gone and the nature of her work, she had done what she’d needed to do.

“When do you leave?” Cooper asked.

“Couple days. I want to visit with Danny a little. Why?”

He shrugged again and seemed to hesitate. “I don’t know. I thought you might want company.”

Alex was surprised. In all the months they’d been working together, this was the first time Cooper had made such a suggestion, and she didn’t know what to think of it.

She shook her head again. “It’s just a quick trip. A day or two. I’m gonna meet with the buyer’s agent, pack the place up, and head home.”

“You don’t need any help?”

“No. But I appreciate the offer.”

He gave her a wan smile, nodded, then patted her hand and got to his feet. “Trust me, you’ll get used to dealing with the political bullshit. I’d tell you we’re all just pieces on a chess board, but that’s a cliché.” He paused. “It’s probably closer to checkers anyway.”

“I didn’t mean to chase you off,” she said.

“No worries. You look as if you could use some sleep, and I wouldn’t mind catching a few Zs myself. If you need me, I’ll be in coach.”

Then he turned and worked his way down the aisle.

Washington, DC

T
HE
MEETING
WITH
Mr. Gray took place where it always did.
 

Gray had chosen it the first time he and McElroy did business, over five years ago, and neither had found a suitable reason to make a change. Besides, McElroy had always liked the Museum of Natural History and often came here when he was in town. He was particularly enamored of the Ancient Egyptian exhibit, with its alabaster vases and ornate coffins and mummified corpses representing a belief that the road to eternal life was just beyond death’s doorway.

McElroy himself didn’t believe in eternal life. He had decided long ago this was as good as it got and he might as well make the best of all he’d been blessed with.

As always, Mr. Gray was waiting for him in the Hall of Paleobiology. McElroy wasn’t sure why Gray had chosen this particular exhibit, because the man never seemed to show much interest in the fossilized dinosaur skeletons or the collection of amphibians and reptiles. It was, McElroy assumed, simply a place to meet that was out of earshot of anyone who might take an interest in what they had to say.

Mr. Gray stood in front of the Tyrannosaurus rex and was carefully cleaning his glasses with a handkerchief as McElroy approached. “I heard about what happened in Istanbul. Pretty nasty business, that.”

McElroy nodded. “You might explain to me why the US government is so anxious to cozy up to a known terrorist.”

Gray shrugged. “I wasn’t in the loop on that op, but one man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter. Besides, since when have you cared about who we choose to do business with, as long as you collect your incentive?”

“That’s just it,” McElroy said. “Stonewell put up quite a bit of money for the operation.”

“And I’m sure you’ll be adequately reimbursed. But I didn’t ask you here to talk about your budget concerns. I have an acquisition for you. One that should make up for this unfortunate business in Turkey.”

“Oh? What is it?”

Mr. Gray tucked away the handkerchief, slipped his glasses on, and smiled. “Shall we walk?”

As they moved slowly through the hall, pretending to be interested in the various exhibits, Gray said, “You remember the rail yard bombing in New York six months ago?”

McElroy nodded. “I heard it was a couple of meth heads who had some kind of grudge against the MTA and decided to go DIY.”

“There was nothing DIY about it.”

“Oh?”

“The device was assembled by someone who was very well trained.”

“So they weren’t meth heads after all?”

Gray gave him a tight smile. “We felt it prudent to let the public believe that it was the work of a couple of disgruntled morons.” He paused. “The truth is that one of the bombers was a young woman by the name of Malina Zupan.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” McElroy said. “Croatian?”

Gray shook his head. “Serbian American. Her parents immigrated here from Belgrade before she was born. But she’s been on the watch list for a while now. Her uncle is a radical Serbian nationalist whose wife and daughter were killed in a hospital strike during Operation Noble Anvil in ninety-nine. He’s held a grudge against the US ever since.”

“Can’t say I blame him.”

“Maybe so, but he’s dangerous and unfriendly and Malina visited him in Belgrade two summers in a row. So, after the mishap in the rail yard, we naturally thought it might be a good idea to visit him ourselves.”

“And?”

“His procurement wasn’t particularly difficult, but it did take us a while to get him to talk. It turns out that what we thought was an accidental detonation wasn’t an accident at all.”

“You mean they
meant
it to go off when no one was around?”

“Oh, it wasn’t set off by Malina or her partner in crime or even her uncle, but it
was
triggered intentionally.”

McElroy frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”

They reached the end of a hall and stepped through a doorway into a dark, narrow room lined on either side with lighted glass tanks. Inside the tanks was a collection of reptiles that brought to mind several members of Congress McElroy had known over the years.

As they moved up to a tank containing an iguana, Gray said, “The bomb was set off in order to convey a message. Not to the public or the government, but to Malina’s uncle himself. He loved his niece very much.”

“Okay, so what was the message?”

“It seems that Mr. Zupan owed a significant amount of money to someone, and when he didn’t pay up, that someone wanted to teach him a lesson. This man coerced Zupan into giving up the number of the cell phone detonator, and called it while Malina and her partner were less than a foot away from the bomb. His timing was impeccable.”

“That’s pretty cold,” McElroy said. “Who is this guy?”

“Someone who’s been on the Stonewell acquisition list for nearly two decades now.”

McElroy smiled. “If you give me a minute, I could probably narrow that down to half a dozen people.”

“This one is German.”

The smiled faded. “Valac?”

“The one and only.”

Reinhard Beck, aka Valac, was a former member of Germany’s Red Army Faction who split off in the mid-nineties and formed his own terror network, the Black Hat Battalion. Beck’s nickname was taken from a book called
The
Lesser Key of Solomon
, which claimed the demon Valac was one of the rulers of the Kingdom of Hell. McElroy had always felt the name was appropriate, and apparently Beck did as well.

Valac had been a fugitive since 1994, after he was accused of the brutal and very bloody assassination of a German businessman and his two young sons while they were vacationing in France. Valac had since been linked to a number of terrorist attacks, both directly and behind the scenes, and had been a fixture on the FBI’s and CIA’s Most Wanted lists through three administrations.

Whoever was lucky enough to catch the man could name his reward, which was why Stonewell International and at least five other top-flight security firms had long considered Valac a priority. Unfortunately, he was very good at evading capture. The best ID the intelligence services had on the guy was a murky black and white surveillance photo from an Italian bank robbery fifteen years ago.

Just the mention of his name set McElroy’s heart pounding. If Gray was offering him a chance at grabbing the guy… “You know where he is?”

“Let’s just say we know where he
will
be in the next couple days, if he isn’t there already.”

“Where?”

Gray raised a brow. “Your impatience is unbecoming, Jason. You need to learn to temper that. Pretend you don’t care, like the rest of us do.”

“And you need to learn to get to the point. Where’s Valac?”

“Somewhere private and isolated,” Gray said. “But I can’t tell you until you ask me how I know.”

It was a game Gray had always played. He took great pride whenever his people uncovered a juicy bit of intel, and he enjoyed sharing the details.

As usual, McElroy played along. “Okay, so how do you know?”

Gray offered him another smile, this one more generous than the last as they moved on to the next glass case—a desert sand snake.

“Malina’s uncle had a contact number that he used to get in touch with Valac. It went through a third party, of course, but our friends in the NSA were able to sift through the go-between’s calls and find the ones that directly coincided with Zudan’s attempts to reach Valac. This in turn led them to yet another individual, and when they tapped
his
phone, they soon found themselves listening to a call from Reinhardt Beck himself and were able to piggyback his private line.”

“I’m impressed,” McElroy said.

“You should be. Unfortunately, Valac is smart enough to change phones frequently, so it didn’t last long. But before he discarded this one, they managed to record an exchange that turned the simple acquisition of a fugitive into something slightly more intriguing.”

“Meaning what?”

“I’ll need to give you some background,” Gray said. “Are you sure you have the patience for it?”

McElroy eyed him dully. “I’m listening.”

“Three weeks ago we suffered a loss in the field. A young scientist we had high hopes for was captured while vacationing in Switzerland and tortured by an ex-patriot and newly minted French citizen named Frederic Favreau. Yet another American gone rogue.”

“I didn’t hear about this.”

“You wouldn’t have. Unfortunately, what Favreau managed to extract from the man were some highly sensitive codes that only a handful of people are privy to. Codes that, if obtained by the wrong party, could prove quite deadly.”

That sounded ominous, but McElroy had enough sense to not ask what they were for.
 

“Favreau, however, isn’t our biggest concern,” Gray went on. “He’s an opportunist, not a terrorist. A crude, low-level rodent, operating far above his weight class, and he’d much rather sell the codes to someone who can make use of them. Someone who will pay the appropriate price, of course.”

“Like Valac.”

Gray nodded. “One of the calls the NSA listened in on was an exchange between the two men. They were arranging a meet on a private island just north of Cuba.”

McElroy’s heart kicked up. “The Bahamas?”

“Geographically, yes. Politically, not so much.”

“You’re talking about St. Cajetan…”

“That’s the one, yes.”

St. Cajetan had been purchased from the Commonwealth, but it was completely sovereign, with its own laws and security force, and had become quite the hot spot for the rich and famous. The
very
rich and famous.

“Okay,” McElroy said, “so you know where they’re meeting. Why come to Stonewell with this?”

“Believe me, we considered sending in our own strike team, but this is a highly sensitive situation, so we’d like to keep it as far off the books as possible. And, frankly, Stonewell has never let us down. You’re discreet and highly efficient.”

McElroy knew when someone was blowing smoke up his ass, but he let it go. If Gray wanted to hand him a once-in-a-lifetime acquisition, he wasn’t about to argue.
 

“So what’s the priority here? The codes or Valac?”

“Oh, the codes, most definitely. Preferably before Valac takes possession. But once they’re secure, he’s all yours, along with all the benefits that might bring.”

In other words, the name-your-own-price reward McElroy desperately wanted. “When is this meeting supposed to take place?”

“As far as we know, the actual day and time haven’t been set,” Gray said, “but Favreau
has
booked a flight for the day after tomorrow.”

Now it was McElroy’s turn to grin. “I’ll assemble a team right away.”

“Excellent. I have only one request in that regard.”

“Which is?”

“It’s our understanding that one of your assets is already in that vicinity, and we’d like very much to see her involved.”

McElroy frowned. “Which asset is that?”

“The one you sent to Turkey. Alexandra Poe. She’s on her way to Key Largo to sell off some family real estate, which puts her within spitting distance of St. Cajetan.”

McElroy was surprised. “You know about her?”

“Considering who her father is, you can’t for a minute think that we don’t. We’ve had her under telephone and e-mail surveillance off and on for over ten years. And I must say, I thought it was brilliant of you to recruit her into your organization.”