A Murder of Crows (37 page)

Finch blinked hard, as if it might help him hear better. “You’re blackmailing me to do my job?”

The words of the Trustee on the bench came back to him. “This isn’t blackmail. It’s an incentive to do your job to the best of your ability.” Hicks gave him a good-natured elbow as he stood up. “Cheer up, Danny Boy. You got on this train as another drunk with a bad hangover and a heavy conscience. You’re going to be stepping off the train in Union Station as one of the most influential men in Washington.”

He watched a dozen objections run through Finch’s mind and watched each one of them die quickly. “You stink, mister, you know that?”

“So do you. Like a vodka bottle. Look for my email as soon as this train comes out of the tunnel. You’ll find both of your phones have already been charged up and should last until you get back to the office. Get yourself some coffee, Ace. You’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Hicks had expected Finch to have some kind of comeback as he watched Hicks step off the train. Most Assets usually did. The Last Word usually gave them the illusion they had some measure of power in a powerless situation.

But Dan Finch didn’t say a word. He stayed slumped against the window, looking in the general direction of where Hicks had been seated.

Hicks had seen this look before. Finch had ridden into Manhattan on top of the world. He was the right hand aide of one of the most powerful people in the country. Now, he was riding back home hung over and under somebody’s thumb. His fate was no longer in his own hands.

But Hicks had learned long ago that fate never is.

Now Finch knew it, too.

Roger fell in next to him as he stepped off the train.

“I watched some of it through the window,” Roger said. “Glad to see you haven’t lost your touch with the carrot-and-stick routine, old friend. I don’t know about you, but there’s nothing like a successful bit of extortion to put the day on a proper footing.”

Hicks wasn’t so cheerful. “Nothing’s successful unless he does what we’re telling him to do.”

“He’ll do it,” Roger said. “His type always does. If he was a tough guy, he wouldn’t have gotten into politics in the first place. Now, would you kindly tell me where we’re going?

“We’re going to Toronto.”

“Canada? What the hell is in Toronto?”

Hicks put on his sunglasses as soon as they hit the main terminal of Penn Station. “We’re going to find out.”

S
INCE THE
University jet had finally made it back from London, Hicks decided to use it to fly up to Toronto. He didn’t know if the previous Dean had used the jet much. Al Clay hadn’t struck Hicks as the jet-setting type, but Hicks had believed the man was a former spy, not the computer geek who had built OMNI. Hicks hadn’t even known the University had a jet at its disposal until he had become Dean.

At first thought such a luxury was an unnecessary expense. The funds to pay for the damned thing could be better used to hire more operatives to fight the University’s new two-front war.

But now he was on-board the damned thing, he began to see how a private jet might come in handy. The entire operation was a University business. A University flight crew was flying the University jet to a University-controlled landing strip in Toronto’s Pearson Airport. There, a customs official on the University payroll would allow Roger and Hicks into the country armed to the teeth. A member of the University’s Varsity squad would meet them at the tarmac in an armored Land Rover and take them to the CN Tower.

Expensive, perhaps, but justifiable under the circumstances.

Hicks had briefed Roger on the Jabbar meeting before the jet took off.

When Hicks was finished, Roger surprised him by saying, “You’re not enjoying any of this, are you?”

“Enjoying what?”

“The jet. The power. The access. The fact you’re about to meet one of the most wanted terrorists in the world. You’re not getting even a little thrill from any of this.”

Hicks wasn’t in an introspective mood, but knew Roger never let anything drop until he got an answer. “I’ll bask in the glory later. Right now, all I care about is Jabbar.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned in our line of work, James, it’s that ‘later’ is never guaranteed. There’s always going to be something going on—another threat to face. Another problem to solve. You’ve risen from a lowly ensign with the Coast Guard’s Intelligence unit to running your own intelligence agency. You deserve to pat yourself on the back a little.”

Hicks should’ve been annoyed at Roger for mentioning his past. He should’ve been annoyed he knew it at all. But Roger Cobb and he was damned hard to be angry with for very long. “How’d you know?”

“I’ve known for years, but it was never important until now. You let it slip once during a night of bad sake in Taiwan about ten years ago. You quit talking soon after, of course, but it was one of the few times you acted like an actual human being. It was almost touching.”

Hicks remembered Taiwan and the sake, but little else from that night. It was one of the many reasons why Hicks kept a close eye on his drinking. If Roger had kept the secret this long, he would keep it even longer. “Let’s not talk about it again. And don’t expect me to pat myself on the back anytime soon. I might be the Dean, but I’ve got all the problems and responsibilities to go with it.” Hicks decided it sounded like whining and stopped himself before saying anything more.

“The curse comes with the blessing, but you have still accomplished something important, my friend. Let it soak in and enjoy some of the benefits while you can. Who knows? We could both be dead in an hour or two.”

“That’s what I like about you, Roger. You always look on the bright side.”

“Like the man said, ‘In the midst of movement and chaos, keep stillness inside you.’”

Hicks figured out where this sudden burst of wisdom was coming from. “You’ve been reading Deepak Chopra again. Goddamn it, I told you to knock that shit off.”

Roger smiled as he leaned closer. “The less you open your heart to others, darling, the more your heart suffers.”

Hicks looked out the window.
Fucking Roger.

“You’re no fun.” Roger readjusted himself in his seat. “So, what do you need me to do while you’re meeting with Jabbar?”

Hicks was glad they were getting back to the business at hand. “I need you to do the hardest thing I’ve ever asked you to do. I need you to blend in with the tourists while watching my back.”

“I can blend in when I want to, you sarcastic bastard. There’s not much fun in being another cow in the herd. You said the meeting is taking place at the CN Tower. Will there be any Varsity bully boys on scene in support?”

“Only the driver. Scott sent him ahead of us late last night.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t demand to come along. He must have hated sitting on the sidelines for this one.”

“I didn’t give him a choice. His team is good, but only one of them has ever worked Toronto before and this isn’t the type of operation for on-the-ground training. Jabbar told me to come alone, so if he senses a tactical group lurking around, he’ll walk away and I’ll never find him again. It’ll be up to you and the driver to watch my back.”

“I’m honored. Ready, too.” Roger opened his sport coat to reveal the nine-millimeter Glock in his shoulder holster. Hicks knew Roger’s flamboyant nature led most intelligence professionals to write him off as a lightweight. But Hicks had been in enough scrapes with the man to know he was almost as good as Tali when it came to fieldwork. Years of champagne, cocaine and a profane lifestyle had dulled his edge a bit, but he was still sharper than most.

And it was a comfort to Hicks to have him there. “I don’t know what we’ll be walking into, Roger. Whatever happens, I need you to stay focused and frosty.”

“Frosty?” Roger grinned. “Baby, I’m practically a fucking Eskimo. Want to rub noses?”

Hicks looked out the window again.
Fucking Roger.

A
BLACK
Land Rover pulled up next to the jet as Roger and Hicks got off the plane. A black man with a compact build wearing a black shirt, cargo pants and boots stepped out from behind the wheel and opened the rear passenger door. “Name’s Weaver, sir. Varsity Squad. Mr. Scott told me to take care of you today. Pleasure to finally meet you.”

Hicks had never met Weaver before. Had he mistaken Hicks for the old Dean? It didn’t matter. He didn’t speak until they were inside the SUV and underway. “You have our passports, Weaver?”

The driver handed two passports back to them. “Jason got these to me ahead of your arrival. You’ll find they’ve already been stamped and are good to go, sir.”

Hicks took the passports and handed one to Roger. He didn’t bother opening it up. He knew it would be the Professor Warren identity, a profile he knew cold. Besides, he didn’t plan on using it unless they got stopped somewhere on airport property. It would be up to Weaver to get them out of it.

Hicks asked, “Did Scott brief you on where we’re going and what we’re doing?”

“No, sir. All he told me was to come ready and come heavy, which I have.”

Hicks decided to keep the details to a minimum. The less Weaver knew now, the less he’d have to be reminded to forget later on. The Jabbar meeting could be a chat. It could also blow up into something much more. “I need you to take us to the CN Tower where we could be walking into a possible hostile situation.”

“Won’t be my first one, sir, and it won’t be my last.” Weaver rolled down the window and waived to the guard at the airport gate. The guard raised the barrier and Weaver drove on. “I’ve been ordered by Scott to keep you two alive no matter what happens and that’s what I plan on doing. Nothing else is my business unless you tell me it’s my business.”

Hicks liked Weaver already. “Good man. I’ll have Jason patch you into his OMNI feed while you’re stationed here in the car. Roger will be providing over-watch support for me on the ground, so all communications will go first to him, and from him to me. The less chatter in my ear, the better if things get hot. One voice calling the plays cuts down on confusion.”

“Understood, sir.”

“I’ll need you to watch the eye in the sky from the dashboard screen in here. Be ready to roll if Jason finds something he needs you to investigate. Sound good to you, Weaver?”

Weaver glanced at him in the rearview mirror before keeping his eyes on the road. “Anything you need, I’m here.”

“Best let me off a block away from the tower,” Roger added. “Circle the block until I tell you I’m in position. That’ll give me time to get a sense of the scene before I give you the go ahead to come in.”

Hicks closed his eyes and shut out the rest of the world for a moment while he focused on his breathing for the rest of the ride into downtown Toronto. Watching the passing cityscape would only make him more anxious than he already was. He needed to quiet his mind and keep himself on an even keel.

Stephens. The University. The Trustees. Finch’s Mission. The Mossad. Jabbar.
The Carousel of Concern was spinning faster than ever in his mind, but he commanded it to slow down. Only one item on the carousel mattered right now. Jabbar. It all hinged on him now.

Hicks had walked into hundreds of unknown situations before, but he had never dealt with a terrorist as high-level as Jabbar. He doubted any Western operative had. Most terrorists like Jabbar either got killed or killed themselves before anyone from the West got their hands on them.