The Janus Reprisal (23 page)

“Easy enough.”

Russell raised her eyebrows. The DHS and the FBI both weren’t exactly forthcoming with the CIA despite their public claims of cooperation. The disconnects between the two agencies were legendary. That Klein could wrap up the disparate reports was a huge advantage to Covert-One.

“Just how connected is Covert-One? What you’re able to accomplish is astonishing.”

“Do you need anything else?” Klein neatly dodged the question.

“To find Smith. Do you know where he is?”

“He’s gone dark. I have little doubt that he is alive, however. A recent police transmission indicated that they had discovered one man dead in a building near the High Line. It wasn’t Smith.”

Russell didn’t bother to ask why Klein was focusing on one dead person in one particular building in New York City. She assumed that he had his reasons.

“And Nolan?”

“Presumably with Smith.”

“And not dead.”

“Not yet.”

“That’s ominous.”

“She’s at most risk. A civilian with the bad judgment to have stolen from Dattar. Her continued existence is not assured.”

Russell started coughing. She knew that once she started, it would be almost impossible to stop. She gagged and choked while Klein listened on the other end of the phone.

“Are you all right?” Klein said.

“I think whatever is in those coolers was used on me.”

“How contagious is it?”

“Apparently no one’s entirely sure. It doesn’t seem to be easily transmitted between people, but they don’t know how it’s contracted. I need a place to rest and I want to speak to a scientist named Ohnara again. He said he’d be here, in New York, for a conference. In Midtown. Which reminds me, I need one more thing. Ohnara’s a colleague of Smith’s who checked into a suspicious swab on my refrigerator. I think he needs to run further tests.”

“I presume they will be costly?”

“Perhaps. The paperwork I’ll need to fill out at the CIA would take several days and possibly tip off our mole. I was hoping you could speed things through for me. I guess I don’t need to say that I have a vested interest in this. I’m told my chances of beating this thing aren’t great.”

“I’ll authorize it as quickly as possible. Are you armed?”

“I have some CIA-issued weapons,” Russell said. “Why?”

“Something tells me you’re going to need them.”

D
ATTAR STEPPED ONTO A
Gulfstream jet bound for New York’s JFK and settled in the first seat. Flush with Amir’s cash and supplied with a new passport and identity, he now knew that he would have to oversee the return of his money and the release of the weapon himself. Depending on intermediaries never worked. He felt the plane begin to bump along the runway and the video about flight security began to play. His in-flight phone rang.

“You lied to me,” Khalil said.

Dattar sat up. “What are you talking about?”

“You have no money. The woman took it all.”

Dattar’s mind raced. “You’re wrong. I have money. Other money. You think she got it all? She did not.”

“Then pay me. Now. And the fee just went up because of your lies. I want double.”

“Absolutely not. You haven’t accomplished anything that I hired you to do. Smith is alive and I presume Howell is as well.”

“You either pay me double, or I’ll have her transfer it all to me.”

Dattar’s rage exploded and he stood.

“That money is mine!”

“Double. Now.”

Dattar began to pace. Rajiid watched him from a neighboring seat and Dattar thought he saw something close to derision in his eyes. All these problems were chipping away at Rajiid’s respect. Dattar took a deep breath to calm himself. He needed to appear as though he was in control, and pacing and screaming would not do.

“Is she in your control?” he said.

“Yes.”

“Put her on the phone.”

“Not until you pay me.”

What a lying bastard, Dattar thought. He didn’t have her.

“I don’t pay you until you prove you have her. Put her next to you and call me from the computer. Turn on the webcam. When I see her, I’ll transfer half the money.”

“I do nothing until the money is transferred.”

“It seems that we’re at an impasse.”

Khalil hung up.

Dattar sat back down. He needed to move quickly. If Khalil had discovered Dattar’s secret, others might have as well. He stared out the window. The airplane couldn’t move fast enough.

Smith woke when a bar of sunlight shot through the white wooden shutters on the bedroom window. Nolan slept next to him on her side. He slid off the bed and padded into the bathroom. A quick look in the mirror gave him some hope. The haggard look he’d been sporting had eased a bit, though the bandages on his arm and the morning beard made him appear disreputable. He noticed that the gauze was stained a reddish brown color from dried blood, so at least he wasn’t actively bleeding anymore. He switched on the shower and stepped under the warm water, relishing it. He wet the gauze in order to be sure that it wouldn’t stick to the wound and then unwound it in the shower. He took care to cleanse the wound gently. When he was finished, he used his teeth to hold one end of a clean piece of gauze while he rewrapped the wound. He tied a decent knot on the field dressing, wrapped a towel around his middle, and headed to the kitchen.

The house was well provisioned with shelf-stable food and drinks. Smith was interested to see that the pantry contained UHT boxed milk, the type normally found in Europe that could be stored indefinitely without refrigeration. It gave Smith a small clue about the nationality of the house’s owner.

He placed a coffee pod in a maker and checked in three cabinets until he found cups. He placed one under the spout and pressed the start button. From upstairs he heard the sound of a bath being drawn. While the coffee cup filled, Smith rooted around in the kitchen drawers, looking for a telephone book in order to find a big box store where he could purchase a prepaid phone. His search turned up nothing. Apparently phone books were too low tech for the house’s owner. He heard footsteps and Nolan walked into the kitchen.

She wore oversized men’s gray sweatpants topped with a large white undershirt, also a man’s. She smiled at him and Smith was glad to see that it was one of her first real smiles, not a half effort. He smiled back. She walked over and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

“Nice outfit,” she said.

“It never occurred to me that there would be clothes available for our use. Those look like they’d fit me a whole lot better than you. Want to switch?”

“Sure. There are some other choices up there, but most look too small for you. First, though, that coffee smells delicious.”

He pulled out a kitchen chair for her. “I’ll make you some. Take a seat.”

She settled into the chair, pulled her feet up and wrapped her arms around her knees. Smith noticed that the position had the advantage of keeping the most injured part of her back from touching the furniture. The coffee cup filled and he placed it in front of her. “Milk or sugar?”

She shook her head and took a sip. She eyed his bandage. “A new dressing? Looks a little rough. Want me to fix it?”

He nodded. “I needed a shower and I didn’t want to wake you.” She began to rise and he waved her back into her seat. “Doesn’t have to be now. Finish your drink.” He opened the pantry door. “This place is well stocked. What kind of person needs a house like this and accepts kilodollars for payment?”

Nolan’s eyes held a knowing look. “People like us.”

Smith held his cup up in a toast. “Touché.” He swallowed the rest of his coffee and placed the cup in the sink. “I’m headed out in search of a prepaid phone.”

She nodded. “I’ll let you wear these clothes. I threw ours in the washing machine and now they’re drying. By the time you get back they’ll be clean. Although that shirt of yours will still have a tear in the sleeve.”

“As long as it’s not covered with blood, I’ll be happy.”

Twenty minutes later Smith was in the sweats and T-shirt, which on him were slightly too small, and walking to an electronics store that Nolan had suggested. He purchased the phone and fired it up with a charged battery that the clerk had offered. He dialed Klein.

“Glad to hear that you’re alive,” Klein said. “Ms. Russell left the hospital and is working on the bacteria angle.”

“Left the hospital? So she’s recovered?”

“Apparently enough to leave. She’s concerned about the CIA mole finding her and is keeping on the move.”

“Did they type the virus that she had?”

“It was a variant of avian flu. Nonmutant.”

Smith heaved a sigh of relief. “So not the strain we’re searching for. Still bad, but it sounds as though she’s recovering.”

“She seems as convinced as you are that Dattar is behind everything.”

“I heard from Howell. He confirmed it. Told me about some sort of weapon.”

“I think it’s in the coolers,” Klein said.

“I have to agree. But how in the hell are we going to find them?”

“I thought you were intending to use Nolan as bait,” Klein said. Smith had not been thrilled with the idea when he’d had it, but now he found that he detested it.

“Initially I thought we could contain the risk, but after last night’s near fiasco, I’m reconsidering it. I almost didn’t get to her in time. She nearly got killed.”

“It may be our only option.” Klein’s voice was calm. Smith didn’t reply. He was nearing the building and slowed. “She’s always at risk of being killed until Dattar gets his money back or is neutralized,” Klein continued. “She’s got to know that and just might be willing to assist. Why don’t you tell her what you’re thinking? Give her a chance to make the decision?”

“She’s a civilian. She doesn’t understand the risk and is not trained to protect herself.”

“She put some of this in motion when she stole the money. She may be at risk, but she seems perfectly capable of understanding the danger we’re facing. I’d like you to explain it to her.” Smith didn’t reply. “You seem to have changed your mind on this tactic. Is there something I’m missing here? Something you’re not telling me?”

“No. I’ll address it with her.”

“Good. Where are you staying? I’ll tell Howell and Beckmann.”

Smith turned onto the street and spotted two men leaning against a tree opposite the apartment building. “Never mind. They’re here.” He rang off and strolled up to them. Howell watched him approach, but Beckmann was intent on watching two aging men who sat next to him on wooden crates and played dominoes. He glanced up as Smith came near.

“How did you find me?”

“We found the cabbie that drove you here. Beckmann and I were just coming around when you and Ms. Nolan jumped into it,” Howell said.

Smith snapped to attention. “Did anyone else see that cab drive off?”

Howell shook his head. “No. We canvassed the area after you left. There was no one. You’re fairly safe for the moment. Happy to see that you handled the situation so well.”

Smith grimaced. “Khalil and the CIA mole both got away.”

“A pity,” Howell said. “But not surprising. Khalil has a way of staying alive.”

“Come on in. I want to hear all about the guy you found.”

He punched in the code, and both men followed him into the kitchen. Nolan was at the counter eating orange slices. A bag with the logo of a grocery chain was on the counter next to her. She was back in the jeans and navy sweater and her feet were bare. Smith made the introductions and noticed that she regarded the two men with a wary look in her eye. The men took chairs around the table, and Smith started coffee.

Howell ran down what he and Beckmann had learned.

“Russell seems to think the weapon may have something to do with the missing bacteria coolers,” Smith said.

Beckmann nodded. “I agree. There’s the attack on the Grand Royal; Dattar escapes; the coolers are stolen; and now a foot soldier of Dattar’s says he’s planning an attack. It seems to be a logical conclusion.”

“But now he has no money to launch the attack.” It was the first time Nolan had spoken.

Howell raised an eyebrow. “Why is that? Dattar is thought to be quite wealthy.”

“I stole it.”

Smith watched Howell and Beckmann over the rim of his coffee cup and was pleased by their shocked reactions. They were as surprised by her announcement as he had been. Beckmann gave a soft laugh.

“Just like my ex-wife,” he said.

Howell shot him an amused look. “One hopes you didn’t give her all of it.”

Beckmann just shrugged. Howell glanced back at Nolan with new respect.

“Your audacity surprises me, but it concerns me as well. Dattar is not one to be stolen from. Also, are you quite sure that you got it all?”

“As of two days ago I was.”

“She can’t access the Internet. It’s how they’re tracking her,” Smith said.

“Is there no computer here?”

Smith pushed off the counter. “Actually, I hadn’t gotten that far when I bumped into you.”

“There’s a Mac in the living room. It should be clean,” Nolan said.

“Would you mind checking?” Howell said.

“Not at all.” They followed Nolan into the living room and waited while she accessed various sites. After a moment Smith heard her suck in a breath. “Twenty million dollars was deposited in one of his Cayman accounts twenty-four hours ago. It’s a functioning account that the authorities must have overlooked.”

“Can you find its source?”

Nolan worked the keyboard, keeping her focus on the screen. “It came from a wire. I can’t access the routing numbers. I’m sorry.”

“Seems as though Dattar has arranged some interim financing,” Howell said.

Smith began to pace. “So he’s back in the game. We need to flush him out.” Smith focused on Nolan. “It has occurred to me, as well as to Russell, that dangling you and his money might encourage him to come out of hiding.”

Nolan sat back in her chair, a thoughtful look on her face. To Smith’s relief she didn’t appear outraged or betrayed by his suggestion. He watched her think the proposition through. Howell raised an eyebrow at Smith but refrained from commenting, and Beckmann shifted forward in his seat. After a long pause she looked up at Smith and her usual determined expression was back.

“Would all three of you gentlemen be present to take Dattar down once he appears?”

“Yes,” Smith said without hesitation.

“I’d like nothing better,” Howell replied.

Beckmann nodded. “Of course.”

“Then let’s do it,” Nolan said.