True Honor (16 page)

“I want to wait until we get the after-action reports.”

“They aren’t going to come for several hours. CIA will go in quietly with the police to collect whatever documents they can from those crushed vehicles and make sure that the armored truck and its contents are secured. I’m guessing we’ll have weeks of work ahead of us going through all the intelligence collected.” Gabriel held the door open for her. “The interesting part of this will be how cells around the world react. There’ll be internal battles for leadership happening in numerous cells over the next weeks.”

“Luther is going to be annoyed,” she said, understating the obvious. And Vladimir. Luther’s impenetrable wall had just been breached. If they could get to Dansky, Luther knew he himself was at risk. There would be a reaction from him, movement, something that could be tracked.

“We’ll get him,” Gabe promised. “After tonight, it’s inevitable.”

Thirteen

* * *

Four Months Later

MAY 21

Tuesday, 11:22 a.m.

Little Creek Naval B
ASE
/ N
ORFOLK
, V
IRGINIA

It felt good to be back on U.S. soil. Sam slipped on his sunglasses as his eyes struggled to adjust to the brightness of a gorgeous day. The military base was more than just home port; it was home. And the Stars and Stripes were flying in welcome.

“Gear.”

Sam leaned down and caught the strap of the bag Wolf lifted up. Unpacking a submarine meant everything came out of a hatch. The sailor assigned to help the SEALs unload their equipment reached to take the bag from him.

“It’s heavy, son.” Sam released his grip. The sailor staggered a bit as he took it. Sam reached down for the next bag.

He was tired, but it was a good tired. There was a lot to do during this return stateside—a trip to South Dakota to surprise his folks and an expedition to find Darcy. He’d heard through friends that she and Gabe were back in the States. He was taking her out for lunch somehow. It was time to collect on at least one of the favors he was due.

“Cougar.”

“Sorry.” He reached for the next satchel.

Wolf climbed up the ladder after passing it up.

“You’ve got lipstick on your collar,” Sam felt obliged to point out. Jill had marked him good.

“Why in the world they would let wives come for joyous reunions and then turn around and say you’re on duty another three hours to unpack is beyond me. I’ve never seen more distracted men in my life.”

Sam laughed. “For two weeks’ liberty in a few hours, I’ll put up with first-year kids stumbling over their own feet. What time are you and Jill taking off?”

“Six. We’ll probably go as far as North Carolina tonight, just as long as I’m far enough away I can’t be found easily by phone. You?”

“I don’t know. I’ll probably head north.”

Wolf laughed. “Have you even called her yet, or are you just going to go?”

“I’m still debating.”

“Team Two said they’d handle the gear in the dry deck.”

“Nice of them.” Sam picked up their scuba gear.

“Would you go call her? I’m not taking off until I know you’ve at least got plans for your two weeks off.”

“Just because you’re not going to be around to keep me out of trouble . . . ,” Sam replied and ducked Wolf’s good-natured shove.

MAY 21

Tuesday, 11:42 a.m.

Central Intelligence Agency / L
ANGLEY
, V
IRGINIA

In the months since the World Trade Center attack, Darcy had taken up running as a way to maintain her sanity and stay in shape. The music contained by the earphones was Big Band at full volume. She ran without counting the laps she made of the path that wove around the 225-acre complex looping around the CIA headquarter buildings and parking lots to the woods by the power plant. She was thinking. She would stop running when she was done thinking or her legs gave out.

The off-duty dog from the bomb squad running beside her crashed through a pile of dried leaves, then circled around to do it again, barking at the fun. She pushed back the earphones and jogged in place, laughing at him. “Henry, they’re dead.”

He rolled in the leaves and then scrambled back toward her. She picked up her pace again.

How was it possible for Luther and Vladimir to simply go quiet and stay quiet? She hadn’t even caught a glimmer of a bank account transaction in the last four months. The places on earth she couldn’t snoop were so few they could be numbered on one hand. Even China and North Korea were under constant electronic surveillance. Tracking down Ramon Santigo had been much like this. Chasing something she couldn’t see. It was making her mad.

Luther and Vladimir had both gone to ground. Even the contracted killings of agents in Europe had stopped as suddenly as they began. Where would Luther hide? And where was his money?

They were four months away from the anniversary of September 11, and the stress in the pit of her stomach was growing. They didn’t have a year to chase this man. They needed Luther and his money wiped off the map so it couldn’t be used to spawn any more evil.

She was under no illusions. The loss of key leadership in so many terrorist groups would make retaliatory actions by followers more likely than not. Without the infrastructure behind them, the attacks would be less organized, less destructive, but there would be something to mark the anniversary. She needed Luther and his source of capital taken out sooner rather than later.

She worried about Luther learning the names of those in the assault teams. The next months hunting Luther and Vladimir would be the most dangerous of the entire fight. He knew he was vulnerable, and you didn’t back an angry cat in a corner and leave him means to strike back.

Lord, I can’t take more civilian deaths happening on my watch. What am I missing? You’ve opened doors and provided leads in the past, given wisdom to put together the pieces. What has to happen next to break this case open? I’m stuck; I need help.
The pressure of her job was burying her under weight that never eased up.

In one of his few letters to reach her Sam had pointed to 1 Peter 5:8 about their adversary, the devil, prowling around like a roaring lion as his way of putting what was happening in perspective. She wished she had the ability to put into words the reassurance Sam found so easy to do. She knew the verses, but at times it was hard to transfer what she knew to what she felt. She had to daily seek the peace that God was in charge, whereas it seemed Sam lived under that reassurance all the time.

Her nerves were stretched to their limits as the months passed without a good lead to work. She was getting beat by Luther, and she hated that feeling. She hadn’t lost a fight in her years with the CIA, but this was beginning to feel like defeat. Some days she felt like she was trying to run away from the burden. She was clinging to the verse:
“Cast all your anxieties on him, for he cares about you.”

“Darcy!” The security guard at the main gate got her attention, and she removed her headphones. “Your partner is looking for you. You’ve got a call he thinks you’ll want to take.”

She changed directions to stop by the security station; it would be a ten-minute run to get back to her desk. Kevin slid open the door for her from the inside. “Line four,” the guard directed, pointing out the phone.

“Thanks, Kevin.”

She snapped her fingers for the bomb dog to settle down near her feet. “This is Darcy.”

“It’s good to hear you’re still alive.”

She nearly dropped the phone. “Sam?” She laughed, delighted. “Where are you?”

“Little Creek. You want to have dinner tonight? I can be in your neighborhood in four hours.”

She looked down at the sweats and the beat-up tennis shoes. “I’d love to; only I’ve got a late afternoon meeting that may drag out. Can we do it late, say eight o’clock?”

“Eight it is,” he promptly agreed.

“Find a pen; I’ll give you a refresher on the directions.”

* * *

Darcy leaned against Gabriel’s office door, wiping perspiration from her face from her run. Her partner had his reading glasses pushed up and his attention focused on a satellite photo that was part of the city of Aden, Yemen. She knew the streets in that town better than those around her own apartment building. They were chasing down a rumor that Vladimir had been there recently.

Darcy chewed on the sucker stick she was working on. “Who’s his new number three? Luther has to replace Dansky with someone. Who is it going to be?” She posed the most interesting of the questions she had been pondering since the takedown in Morocco.

“It’s not like there are many options. Vladimir will probably assume operations as well as security.”

“He won’t let himself be that exposed, out traveling and meeting people who he knows are watching and hunting him. After what happened in Algeria and Morocco, I bet he figures someone is selling them out. Without seeing our cards, it looks like too much of a coincidence that we got both cells in a matter of weeks. I’m betting Luther’s new number three is going to be someone not on our radar screens.”

Gabe leaned back in his wheelchair. “The way Luther has gone quiet, I’m betting he’ll be looking to settle in and restore security around a new home before he makes any attempt to rebuild his organization and anoint a new number three. We may not have knocked him out, but we stunned him and it shows.” Gabe exited the Yemen page and logged out of the secure site. He reached for his stack of phone messages. “How was your call?”

She smiled at him, surprised it had taken him that long to ask. “You knew it was Sam. Why didn’t you warn me?”

“And ruin his surprise?” Gabe asked, returning the smile. “He was trying to get a call to your desk here, but no one would admit you were alive. The operator had actually tagged security to a possible problem.” He held up his hand. “I took care of it. So what’s the verdict? Going to see him?”

She rocked her foot on the edge of her tennis shoe. “Maybe dinner. Since I’m still rumored to be dead, it’s a bit awkward having him come this direction, but I’ll work something out. I’ll probably take him to Chin’s. I want a good grilled swordfish.”

“He’s at Little Creek?”

“Just got in.”

“I figured that. He sounded like he was seeing daylight for the first time in ages. Why don’t you visit him there? You haven’t had a day off in months, and it would do you good to get away. Besides, the seafood is better that direction.”

“I’ve got a meeting with the Mideast desk at three.”

“I’ll take the meeting. Take a few days now. It’s a quiet window. As it gets closer to September 11, we’ll be working around the clock again. I’d like you fresh for that. You’d better go while you can.”

“Gabriel—”

“Go. Luther is quiet. We’re watching everywhere we think something might appear. You owe Sam a favor, so go surprise him.”

She wanted to get out of here with an intensity that surprised her. She wanted to forget this war and the fight and have a few days truly free. “Your wife and I were going to go shopping tonight, but this means I’ll have to cancel on her. Will you surprise her with dinner since if I cut out early you can do the same without me knowing about it?”

He grinned at her. “Probably.”

“Then I’m going. But only if you promise to answer my phone while I’m gone and call if there’s anything interesting. And be liberal on your definition of interesting.”

“I predict you’ll be in news withdrawal within a day. There’s a great bed-and-breakfast in Norfolk on Route 60—that’s the scenic highway, by the way, which I strongly suggest you drive and enjoy the scenery—the bed-and-breakfast is at the corner of Independence Boulevard. I’m sure one of the thousands of directories this place owns can give you the name.”

“Or I could type bed-and-breakfast, Norfolk, Virginia, in my know-it-all search engine and get the phone number.”

“That would work too.”

“I’ll call you when I arrive,” Darcy offered.

“That was a preemptive decision because you knew I was going to ask.”

She grinned at him and picked up one of Gabriel’s decoder rings he kept in a bowl beside his phone to give out as jokes and slipped it onto her little finger.

“Get out of here, Dar, and enjoy the time away.”

She started toward her office and then came back to lean around the doorway. “What are you getting me for Christmas?”

“Darcy, it’s May.”

“It’s exactly seven months and four days to Christmas. A useless fact, but I tend to remember those kinds of things. I want a guppy for my new fish tank. A fancy one. Sam says I don’t know how to do a guppy stroke. I want to be able to tell him that I have a guppy.” She grinned at him and then headed to her office.

She had to figure out a way to head off Sam. He might have already left to come north, but she’d said eight o’clock, and she was counting on the fact he would at least be stopping by his place to look through the mail first.

Where was that note with his friends’ names? Her desk was clear, the papers in the safe, and the slip of paper she had kept with his messages for friends was no longer tucked on her keyboard where she kept it for weeks as a souvenir. She finally found the slip of paper in the paperback she was reading and picked up the phone.

“Kelly? This is Darcy St. James. I called a while back with a message Sam asked me to pass on.”

“Yes, hi. How are you, Darcy?”

“I was hoping you might be able to do me a favor. Sam just called, and he was thinking about coming this way for dinner. I’d like to head your way instead, but I need some help.”

MAY 21

Tuesday, 4:17 p.m.

Norfolk, Virginia

“Kelly, she’s beautiful.” Sam carried Bethany over to the couch and carefully sat down. His goddaughter was five months and four days old, and she’d already stolen his heart. He’d seen her this morning as Joe showed her off around the pier but it hadn’t been nearly long enough. Her eyelashes were perfectly curled and the little fingernails had grown. She had good muscle tone and even in her sleeper outfit with its little feet she was quite mobile. Joe had been back in the States for two weeks for her birth, and photos had been regularly posted online to let the entire team stay in touch. But it wasn’t the same as holding her.