Firewall (16 page)

3:35 A.M. WEDNESDAY

While Grayson talked to his SSA and made his report about Vince, Taryn waited in the break room with an escort, an agent who looked like he would rather be anywhere but with her. She refused to go back to the health services unit. Decisions needed to be made, and the process took time.

The hum of the vending machine kept her company. The room had the sterile feel of a hospital
 
—synthetic, without emotion. The agents were far from unfeeling, but she understood the necessity to focus on logic.

She hated the cold, and this room blew air like the dead of winter. She massaged the goose bumps on her arms, all the while craving the power of Tylenol 3. She’d vowed to leave the prescription meds alone until she could finally sleep, her self-imposed deadline, and rely on over-the-counter relief. The thought of getting addicted to painkillers was worse than her concussion and all the other aches.

She sipped on black coffee to warm her up. Caffeine bolted through her veins, and she wanted to get started with the day’s work. She’d sat there too long with nothing to do, determined to prove her worth. . . .

Grayson and Joe entered the room, and her babysitter agent left. Lines formed across both men’s foreheads like X-rays of stress.
Grayson normally gave her immediate eye contact, but not this morning. What had he learned that had him consumed?

“What are the new developments?” she said.

“Privileged information.” Grayson poured two cups of coffee.

She understood security measures. “I want to let Murford think I’ll exchange Nehemiah credentials for Zoey, my iPad, and iPhone. I can give him something bogus that will allow him access through several levels and give the perception they are getting somewhere, but ultimately it will destroy the system. Wire me up or whatever you do, and let me help bring him in.”

“You’d be running with big guns when all you have is a water pistol,” Joe said.

“I don’t care. It’s an opportunity to bring these killers to justice.”

Grayson sat across from her at a round table and stared into his coffee while shaking a sugar packet. “Your idea has been discussed. Understand the FBI doesn’t negotiate with terrorists. Neither do we encourage civilians to be put at risk.”

“But I’d be acting alone.”

Grayson frowned. “We can’t support your plan.”

“Does it matter? I could walk out of here, and Murford would show up with reinforcements.” She leaned closer. “I’m right, and you’re not using me to your advantage.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

Joe touched her arm. “Taryn, you and I talked about this. There’s no guarantee Zoey is alive. The odds are against it.”

His words lit a fuse inside her. “So you’ll take the defensive and hope something comes up? How effective is that when you’re supposed to be the offense?”

“Calm down,” Grayson said as though she were a child.

She stood. “I’m perfectly calm and amazingly logical. If you don’t agree, I’ll go to the SSA. He’d agree my plan is superior.”

“That’s so intelligent.” Grayson’s voice rose. “You pretend to give Murford the info, he’ll kill you. Very simple maneuver. He and his pals win.”

“I’m not sitting by and doing nothing until you tell me this is over!”

Joe waved his arms. “A shouting match between you two won’t solve a thing. We’re learning more by the minute. Hundreds and thousands of agents, as well as specialty forces of Homeland Security, are working every angle of the bombing, the software theft, and Zoey’s kidnapping. Some believe the software and the bombing are connected. Others do not. But in any event, we’re talking about a huge task force. One overzealous woman isn’t going to break this case.”

“You don’t know that for sure.” She sensed something from the two, and she wouldn’t let it rest. “Which one of you is going to tell me what has happened?”

Joe scratched his chin. “Well
 
—”

“Joe, it’s not our
 
—”

“I’m retired, remember? What’s the FBI gonna do? Send me home? Stick me in jail? Taryn steps out of here without our protection, and the first good ole boy who believes in God, the US, and fried alligator will pull the trigger. And the media will paint his face as a hero.”

“I agree. But some info is confidential,” Grayson said.

“What do you know?” Taryn’s pulse escalated. Had they found Zoey and were afraid to tell her? “Who would I tell?”

“Telling someone is not the issue,” Grayson said. “If you aren’t aware of updates, then you can’t be forced to reveal something.”

“If I’m tortured or killed, it would be for Nehemiah.”

“It’s how the information would be secured that bothers me. I’m sure Murford has a fully equipped toolbox.”

She shuddered. “I’m in this mess for the duration. I deserve to know what you’ve learned.”

“According to Pedraza, Murford killed Claire.”

She swallowed the acid rising in her throat. “I suspected it was him,” she said. “He’s capable of anything.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Grayson studied her. His clear
blue eyes read concern, but was it for protocol or for her? “If you overhear something while in this building, then it stays here with you.”

Learning new information always came at a price. “I want to know everything. Because I intend to help with or without your permission.”

“Arguing with you uses more energy than a firefight. All right. But I don’t approve of any of this.”

“Thank you. I’m not trying to be difficult. I just need to do all I can . . . for all those who’ve died. And I don’t care if I sound dramatic.”

Grayson narrowed his gaze and ran his fingers through his hair. “The FBI took a call from a man who says he wants to talk to Taryn Young. Says he knows where Zoey Levin is being held. Wants to make a deal. Came from a burner phone, and the conversation was short.”

“How do I make it happen?”

“He’s calling back at six.”

The wall clock indicated urgency. “I don’t have much time to think about this.”

“Agents will be listening in, and he’ll know it,” Grayson said.

“Would the man be aware of Vince’s arrest?”

“Depends if he’s attempted to get in touch with Vince. The caller is probably Murford. He doesn’t have the necessary access, and he needs it to pull off a bidding war that’s supposed to happen Friday morning.”

“I’m in.” She followed Grayson and Joe to the operation center and watched the clock for the scheduled time.

At six, agents scurried to set up the call trace.

The phone rang and Grayson handed it to her with a nod. She needed his support.

“This is Taryn Young.”

“Listen to me before you hang up.”

Murford’s voice nearly devastated her. All the things she wanted to say to him would have to wait. “What do you want?”

“I want to make a deal. You want Zoey, and I need access to Nehemiah.”

Her knees shook, and she eased onto a chair. “How do I know she’s alive?”

“I give you my word.”

She clenched her fist. “Your word? Dozens of people are dead and wounded because of your word.”

“I didn’t bomb the terminal. In fact, I was supposed to have been blown up with it.”

“You expect me to believe that? Looked like excellent timing to me.”

“Doesn’t matter. We both have something the other wants.”

“And you expect me to believe you?” she said.

“If you’re not willing to negotiate, we’ll both end up dead along with Zoey.”

“So you’re drowning and want me to throw you a life preserver? Tell me who’s the bomber.”

“Doesn’t matter. They’re powerful, and they have plans.”

She stared at Grayson. Her gaze captured his, and his smile filled her with confidence. “Let’s meet and talk. For breakfast.”

“Alone. I have eyes that will let me know if the FBI follows you.”

She hoped those eyes were Vince’s. “Deal. Tell me when and where.”

7:30 A.M. WEDNESDAY

Grayson fumed over what Taryn planned to do. What made it worse was Joe and the SSA agreed with her ridiculous idea. She’d been hurt enough. How much more could she take?

Intel pouring in from various FBI departments indicated a connect in New York, but the who, why, and where hadn’t been confirmed. Vince had placed four calls to a number in New York, and Pedraza claimed the real boss was located there. Now to run it down.

Would a bomber take out an airport terminal to gain access to a software program? It seemed really far-fetched, but Grayson was vested in the supposition, and the more he investigated the Nehemiah Project, the more he supported it. What had once looked like a ridiculous reason now took a different flight pattern. Although many agents asked themselves the very same questions, the answers weren’t clear yet. What spurred the bomber?

A media source indicated the bomber simply wanted to make a power statement. Grayson didn’t swallow the rationale. He wanted the motivation, and the why would lead them to the who. Iran’s naming of the terrorists spread around the world, which indicated the bomber had feet on the ground here, people who were trained and not necessarily Middle Eastern. The media cried out for retaliation, and the world watched and listened.

For certain, having Murford in custody would mean another step toward more arrests.

A notification from the FIG diverted his attention. Definite confirmation of a bidding war taking place Friday morning at eleven Central time for some highly specialized software. Most of those taking part in it would be hard to trace. But unless Murford had expert hackers, a buy wouldn’t happen. Then he’d have death warrants out for him from all over the world.

Taryn stood before him. Another store run had produced clean clothes, and she wore makeup to cover the nasty bruises. She’d combed her auburn hair over the bandage and looked . . . good. This lady, his lady, had the face of an angel. He offered a smile, but he didn’t feel encouraging. These guys played for keeps. He didn’t want to lose her to a bullet or a ruthless kidnapper.

“Are you wired up?” he said.

The tenderness in her eyes caused his stomach to flip. When had his wild feelings gotten this deep?
Put a lid on it, Grayson.

“I’m ready for the rendezvous,” she said. “Wearing a Kevlar vest and everything.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Wish you had a ceramic one too. Have you been briefed on what you’re walking into? This isn’t a movie set. It’s reality. You can back out of this and no one would blame you.”

Taryn touched his arm, and he remembered when she’d recoiled from his touch. “Thank you for the concern, for believing in me when no one else did. For saving my life so many times.” She shuddered. “Do you understand I have to meet with him, not only to help the FBI but to find Zoey and wipe my slate clean of what the rest of the world believes about me?”

He did understand, and once again her determination was one of the things he respected about her. “In your shoes, I’d do the same,” he said. “Be careful. Murford has seen how you can defend yourself, so he’ll be looking for you to try to get the best of him. That’s not your job. Agents will handle apprehending him. Your
role is to keep him talking, get him to confess, and exit the restaurant with him so innocent people aren’t hurt. Eyes will be everywhere. Note he’ll probably be in disguise.”

“I know,” she whispered. “And I won’t go with him anywhere unless there’s no other way.”

He forced logic into his words so she wouldn’t see the depth of his growing feelings. “Taryn, there’s always another way. Putting your life in danger is your choice, but setting yourself up to be tortured and killed is another. And we both know he’s capable of murder.”

“I’ll be careful.” A flash of something came and vanished in her eyes. “I . . . I saw Buddy. He didn’t want me to leave him.”

“So he’s a keeper?” The dog maybe, but what did she feel about
him
?

“Hope so. I should try to find his owner, but I don’t really want to. He’d be a great companion for Bentley.”

“I bet so too.”

She shook her head. “I might have to tear Murford apart myself.”

“Wait until we’re finished with him.”

“Thanks. All I want is five minutes. Can I check my e-mail one more time before I leave?”

He and Taryn were the masters of changing topics when conversation became uncomfortable. But this time his heart overruled logic.

“Taryn.”

Her green gaze flew to him. He saw what neither of them could discuss. She sank her teeth into her lip. “We can’t go there.”

He wanted to take her hand, but he resisted. “But we will. I’m praying for you.”

Her eyes moistened. “Us too?”

“You bet.” He moved from his computer, and she slipped into the chair. The moment lost. Or was it?

Her long, slender fingers raced over the keyboard. “There’s the
one I’m looking for,” she said. “Take a look. From Save, my old Black Hat pal.”

Hey girl,

Always good to hear from you. I do have a job. Pays crazy good.

Would need your total attention until resolved. No questions asked, and payment would arrive to your bank account. If interested, call me.

“You have a few minutes,” Grayson said.

“I’ll see what he offers.”

He handed her a phone, one that couldn’t be traced. She pressed in the number, and Grayson listened.

“Hi, this is Julie. Got your message.”

“You must have remembered I don’t ever sleep.”

“I did. What do you have?”

“You’ll need to work through me for this. The employer doesn’t trust anyone. Plays for keeps.”

“How serious?”

“Deadly. I don’t even know the source. But I’ve worked for this person before.”

“Okay. Doesn’t matter. I need the money.”

“Give me the number for the call, and I’ll make the arrangements. I’ve been working on it but haven’t gotten far. Somebody did a good job developing a firewall.”

She flashed a grin at Grayson. “What kind of project?”

“Protecting process control software designed for LNG companies, and the buyer needs access ASAP.”

“I’m going to be tied up until late morning with another job. Can they wait until then?”

“I’ll do my best.”

She gave him the number. “Thanks so much.”

“Maybe the next time we meet, you won’t be so quick to run off.”

“You just might be right.” Taryn disconnected the call. “Maybe between Save and Murford, I can provide something of value.”

She already had, for him if no one else.

8:00 A.M. WEDNESDAY

Taryn grabbed her purse and the keys to a compact rental car. She’d meet Murford at a Denny’s nearby. He’d expect her to be early, and she needed time to think and pray through whatever would happen with him. She didn’t dare shake or show any signs of fear. Neither could she look around the restaurant for other agents. Grayson stepped with her onto the elevator, and they rode in silence to the first floor.

Strange how her life had gone from accelerating her career through exemplary job performance to assisting in a nationwide search for terrorists who had committed unthinkable crimes. Finding Zoey alive propelled every word and action. If Taryn survived, she’d give Claire’s daughter the best love-filled home in history. They’d do everything together. And just as Claire wanted, Taryn would bring Zoey up to know Jesus, love others, and learn how to make good choices. Amid the horror of the past two days, she allowed herself to dwell on the little girl making friends with Buddy, and how Bentley would probably be jealous. Oh yes, a house with a backyard and a swing set and maybe a pool. Zoey already knew how to swim. Taryn would find a job . . . possibly teaching on a college level. Any hopes of continuing to develop highly secured software had crashed.

“You’re smiling,” Grayson said.

She read the sign in the elevator about not discussing cases. “Honestly, I was thinking about Zoey and the life I want to give her.”

“You’ll be a wonderful mother.”

“I’ve never thought about myself as a mother, but I like the sound of it.”

“I hope you can make it happen. No, I pray it.”

How dear of Grayson. One more time, she let the thought creep into her head. . . . If only she’d met him before the big mistake. He was a friend, and maybe when this was over, they could continue. But her trust factor with a possible relationship had hit zero.