Dead Aim (24 page)

"So how does it connect with Arapahoe Junction?"

"I don't know. I'm still searching. Go away and let me work. I think I'm getting there."

"Anything I can do?"

"He kept saying Lontana, didn't he? They lost Lontana and everything went wrong."

Morgan nodded. "And he may have been referring to him as the Brazilian. I've already given the name to Galen to run a check on."

"I'm running my own check. If he was connected to Fairfax and Arapahoe Junction, then he should have something to do with vents. I'll cross-reference and see what I come up with. . . ." She frowned as the results came on the screen. "Nothing. I'll try a new search engine. . . ."

Morgan watched her for a few minutes longer, but he knew she'd forgotten he was in the room. He moved out onto the porch again and sat down, his gaze on the road. It was irritating that his part in this was a passive one. He wanted to do something.

But it would come. He could feel it coming.

And until then he'd watch and wait . . . and protect.

"Logan is in town," Betworth said as he walked with Ben Danley toward the Capitol building. "He's asking questions. Nothing aggressive, Danley. But naturally we have to keep our eye on him. What Logan does on the surface is usually only the tip of the iceberg."

"What kind of questions?"

"Don't get nervous. He's asking about the FBI investigation of Alex Graham. It's perfectly logical, since the woman and his wife are such good friends."

"He may know something."

Betworth shook his head. "He may suspect something. No one knows anything. And in seven days it won't matter anyway. So calm down and just go about your job. I only told you because I didn't want you hearing from someone else and panicking."

"I'm not panicking. I'm anxious. You always underestimate me. I'm the one who set up Matanza. I have a right to be anxious."

"Of course you do." Danley's sudden rebellion surprised Betworth. "Anxiety is fine. It keeps the edge. Overconfidence can be fatal. Who's assigned to go down and keep Matanza in line?"

"I thought I'd go myself."

"No, I'll need you at Z-3. Besides, you're too visible. Andreas might miss you and ask questions."

"Then I'll send Al Leary. He's competent, and he worked out the deal between Morales and Matanza at Fairfax."

"Since Morales was taken down, I wouldn't say that would inspire much faith in the group."

"They don't have to have faith. We're giving them what they want and they're giving us what we want. If you don't need me, I'll leave Wednesday for Z-3."

Betworth felt a surge of excitement. It was going to happen. For years he'd worked and planned and now it was almost here. "Go ahead. If there's any emergency, I'll be in touch."

"There had better not be an emergency."

It sounded almost like a threat. Well, he could handle that later. He had plenty of ammunition to keep Danley in line. Right now it was time to use honey. "Everything is going smoothly, thanks to you. It's amazing what one intelligent man can accomplish." He stopped at the Capitol steps. "Now, smile and wave good-bye. A very casual good-bye."

Danley's gaze went to the head of the steps, where Carl Shepard was standing surrounded by congressmen. "What's he doing here?"

"Trying to swing votes for Andreas on the environmental bill. He probably won't succeed. He's no Andreas."

"You can say that again. But I hear he's done well working to improve Homeland Security."

"That's a piece of cake. Security is on everyone's mind these days. Environment is much more difficult. I'm the only one who can swing those votes. But I'll shake Shepard's hand and look properly impressed and flattered at the attention of the honorable Vice President. Then I'll fade into the background with my fellow congressmen."

"Not much chance of that." Danley turned and moved toward the parking lot.

He was right, Betworth thought. His star was ascending, not setting, and there was no way he was going to let it fade away.

Chapter 11.

"I found it." Alex threw the papers down on the table in front of Morgan. "Maybe."

"Well, that's definite." Morgan picked up the sheets. "Lontana?"

"Philip Lontana. A Brazilian oceanographer. Very well respected in the profession. He's done it all--written reports on the deterioration of the barrier reefs, searched for lost cities, drawn charts of unexplored undersea territory. One of his pet projects was the study of oceanic thermal vents."

"And that leads us where?"

"Two years ago he wrote a paper that was published in
Nautilus.
It's a fairly obscure professional journal and that's the reason it took me so long to find it. It dealt with the possibility of tapping deep into the earth's core itself, of creating vents that could be controlled by sonic technology. It would take a complicated mathematical formula each time to make the necessary insertion, but he was sure he was on the right track. He was already working on the device." She shook her head. "He was all excited about the prospect of an unlimited power source that would change the way we live."

"Or the way we die. He didn't think of the possibility of using it as a weapon?"

"He mentioned it but then skimmed right over any disadvantages, stressing an energy source that could save the planet. Let the UN take care of the problems."

"Not the Brazilian government?"

"Evidently he wasn't fond of the Brazilian government. Early in his career he'd located a sunken Spanish galleon and he had to give half his finder's fee to the government. He rambles on quite a bit about salvage rights and the rights of the individual. He sounds like an eccentric."

"Or a nut cake?"

"Maybe a brilliant nut cake. But evidently the scientific community didn't take him seriously. There are several follow-up replies to his report from other oceanographers. They said what he was proposing was impossible, since the earth's core lies nearly six thousand kilometers below the surface."

"Anything else?"

She shook her head. "But if everyone in his little world pooh-poohed his work, isn't it logical he'd try to take it to someone else?"

"Like Betworth, who's known as one of the shining beacons in U.S. environmental issues? So he set Lontana to work in the labs at Fairfax. Evidently with some success."

She frowned. "But Powers said they lost him. Everything went wrong because they lost him."

"Then we've got to find him. If he's still alive." He dialed Galen's number. "I'll see if this new information helps."

"It's all guesswork."

"That fits together." He walked out on the porch as he gave Galen a rundown on the computer info. "Have you found out anything else about him yet?"

"We didn't run across that report in
Nautilus
. We do know he no longer lives in Rio. He works out of Nassau in the Bahamas. We haven't been able to get in touch with him. I have a man on his way to Nassau now."

"He may not be alive. When Powers said they lost him, he might have meant they had to dispose of him."

"Stop being a pessimist. It doesn't sound like that to me."

"Well, then here's something else you can be optimistic about. I want you to trace Al Leary and see what he's up to."

"Leary . . . Oh, your old CIA contact. What do you want to know?"

"Everything. Including his cell-phone number."

"Why?"

"Powers wasn't as much help as I'd hoped."

"But Leary will talk?"

"Oh, yes. I'm a little irritated with him about setting me up after Fairfax. He'll talk."

"Considering he's fully aware of your capabilities, I'd bet on it. What should I know about him?"

"He's smart, well educated, and gay. He's still in the closet because he thinks it's more politically advantageous for an ambitious man with the CIA."

"Dangerous?"

"Definitely lethal if he's cornered."

"Then we'll leave it to you to corner him." Galen changed the subject. "How did it go with Logan?"

"As well as could be expected. At least he's moving and shaking. Have you heard from him?"

"The first night. He said people weren't talking. It could be because there's so much tension about the embassy attacks, but he said he was running up against a blank wall."

"Shit."

"There's that pessimism again. Logan doesn't like blank walls. He has a habit of blowing holes in them. He said he'd call you if he heard anything. Expect him to call." He paused. "Thermal vents. That could be bad stuff to monkey around with."

"Not half as bad as trying to access core power. Who the hell knows what that would do? All that magma . . . How's Elena?"

Galen chuckled. "Melted rock makes you think of Elena?"

"There are some similarities. But I really wanted to know if you'll be available if I need you."

"Maybe. Why don't you come and ask her?"

"I'm serious. I may want to bring Alex to you. She won't go with Logan, but that's because she knows he'd put walls around her."

"I'm not endangering Elena, Morgan."

"Ask her. She knows what it's like to be on the run."

He was silent. "Alex would come?"

"Maybe not right away. But there's going to come a time that I'm more danger to her than Jurgens or Betworth. She can't stay with me."

"I'll ask her. I don't promise anything." He hung up.

No promises, but Galen would do it. Elena was another matter. She was tough, protective of Galen, and she hated Morgan's guts. He would have to wait and see.

"Lontana's home base is Nassau," he told Alex when he came back into the house. "Galen's sent a man down to locate him."

"That's good." She looked back at the computer. "I wonder if I should access another site and see if--"

"No." His tone was firm. "You've done enough. Why don't you rest?"

"I'm too wired."

"Then I may as well take advantage of you." He went to the corner and got her duffel bag. "If I set up your developing equipment, will you develop that picture you took of the man running from Powers's place?"

"But you already think you know who it is, don't you?"

"I want to be sure. Will you do it?"

She nodded. "Set it up."

"I don't know if you can tell who he is." Alex wiped her hands on her towel. "There's blood all over his face."

Morgan gazed down at the picture. "I know who he is."

Her eyes narrowed on his face. "Runne."

He nodded. "But you're right. No one else could tell who he was. And you may need to know." He got his sketch pad and his pencil moved quickly over the paper. "This is Runne."

She looked down at the sketch of a handsome young man with intense dark eyes, sensitive lips, and an expression so tormented it almost jumped from the page. "You did this sketch incredibly fast."

"I could do it in my sleep. I'm used to drawing him. You might say he's been my favorite subject for a long time." He smiled. "Except for you."

"His eyes are slanted just a little. Is he Asian?"

"Half Korean. Half American."

"He . . . looks tortured."

"He is." He took the sketch back. "This isn't correct now. It looks as if he's been wounded in the cheek and lips. He'll probably have to have stitches." He altered the sketch to reflect the wound. "That's as close as I can come. If you see anyone who looks like this, run like hell."

"Is that what you're doing?"

He nodded.

"Because you're afraid?"

"Yes."

She studied his face. "I don't believe you."

"He's been hunting me for a long time. Why else would I be hiding from him?"

"You tell me." She smiled crookedly. "But you won't tell me, will you? That would mean you'd have to lessen the distance." She turned and went to the camp stove across the room. "I'm going to make myself some instant coffee. Do you want some?"

"I guess."

His gaze followed her as she moved around the kitchen. A few minutes passed before he said abruptly, "He's only twenty-two years old."

"I hear rattlesnakes have their venom from birth." She handed him the cup. "I saw what he did to Powers's wife. I can't believe you're feeling pity for him."

"I don't. I suppose it's empathy. I look at him and see myself. I know what he's going to do next, because it's what I'd do." He gazed unseeingly at the cup in his hand. "His name is Runne Shin. He's the bastard son of an American prostitute and Ki Ho Shin, a North Korean general."

She froze. "The North Korean general you were sent to kill."

"The general I did kill." He lifted the cup to his lips. "I had no problem with taking on the job. Shin was as anti-American as they come. Not only was he involved in several human-rights abuses, but he was the guiding hand behind a terrorist training camp near Pyongyang. Runne attended the camp from the time he was fourteen until he was almost nineteen. Before that he lived in Tokyo with his mother. She wasn't permitted to resume her profession, since she was the mother of Shin's son, but she didn't have much to do with him. Evidently Shin kept her docile and cooperative with drugs until she overdosed when Runne was fifteen. His father's visits were the highlights of Runne's life, and when he decided to take Runne back to North Korea for training he was more than eager to go." He smiled sardonically. "He became a star pupil, and a star pupil had to be used. When he was nineteen, his father thought he should go back to Tokyo to the American university there and soak up a little red, white, and blue ambience before they shipped him out to the States. He'd absorbed too much propaganda and political zeal in the camp and would stick out like a sore thumb."