Operation Sheba (25 page)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“Julia! Connie!” Ace banged on the door of the old farmhouse. He was still on a rush from the afternoon’s escapade and, like a junkie needing a fix, he wanted more. When he’d arrived back home at the mortuary, he’d thought he’d never calm down, but a few minutes in front of the TV and he’d fallen dead asleep. Then the phone rang.

When Smitty had called, he’d felt adrenaline flood his system again. He’d thrown his pants on and had his keys in hand before Smitty had given him all the details.

Unable to wait for Con to open the door, Ace ran to the garage door and punched the numbers Con had made him memorize into the keypad. The door went up and Ace did the same to the keypad inside, opening the door connected to the house.

Running through the laundry room, he took the stairs two at a time to the second story of the house. “Where you guys at?” he yelled again, drumming his fist on the wall as he cleared the top landing. All the upstairs doors were open and he could hear the shower running in the bathroom on his left.

He stepped into the bathroom, his hand going up to knock on the open door, and stopped short, Connie’s name dying on his lips as he registered two naked bodies behind the frosted, but clear enough, shower curtain. Dazed, he took a step back but couldn’t peel his gaze away from the fuzzy scene across the room.

And then he heard Julia cry out something in another language and he jumped, stumbling backwards and throwing a hand out to the doorframe to keep from falling on his ass. Backing out the bathroom door, he continued to stumble downstairs and came to rest in the kitchen where he sat down hard at the table and stared wide-eyed at nothing in particular.

A second later, his brain clicked back to real life and he remembered his mission.

“Connie’s going to kill me,” he whispered to himself as he jumped up from the chair and paced the kitchen floor. He grabbed the phone receiver off the wall and dialed Smitty’s cell phone. Before Smitty could say anything, Ace told him of his transgression.

Ryan Smith chuckled tiredly. “Way to go, Ace. Pull yourself together and make some coffee. The Great Conrad Flynn is more likely to grant leniency after he’s had some caffeine, and it’s going to be a long night. We’re all going to need it. The FBI’s all over the perimeter of Stone’s place so the three of you better meet me at Julia’s apartment.” He yawned. “And bring me a gallon of that coffee when you come.”

Ace looked down at the table, seeing it for the first time. “Good grief. There’s glass on the table and floor. What happened here tonight?”

“Let’s leave that to our imaginations. Now get Conrad out of the shower and bring me that coffee.”

Ace nodded even though Smitty couldn’t see him. “My imagination has had all the stimulation it can handle for one day.”

Julia’s eyes were still closed as the hot water pulsed on Conrad’s shoulders. His legs were trembling from the sex and her weight. Nuzzling her earlobe, he asked, “Did you hear something?”

Her shoulders shrugged faintly in response as she unwrapped her legs from around his hips and let out a satisfied sigh. “Bats. Mice, maybe. Either that or
someone,
as in
human,
just witnessed you performing your Captain Nemo imitation on me in the shower.” She wiped a hand over her eyes and face to rid them of water. “The good news is the guy didn’t shoot us so he must be on our side. Someone like your
wheelman,
maybe?”

“What a shame.” Conrad shook his head. “Now I’m going to have to kill him.”

Five minutes later, Julia was ready to kill Flynn’s wheelman herself. “What do you mean”—she stared at Ace in disbelief while her stomach twisted in two different directions—“that Michael is being held hostage?”

Ace took a step back, holding out a cup of steaming coffee to her like a shield. “Ryan was staked out, watching Big Mike’s. That senator guy showed up and then all hell broke loose. He’s been calling your cell phones, but you were out of range or something.”

Julia ignored the cup and swung her attention to Conrad.

He smacked the counter with one hand. “Goddamn it. Who’s with him besides King? Is Allen there?”

Ace nodded and offered the cup to Conrad. Conrad took it and set it on the counter. “And who’s got them? Does Smitty know that?”

Ace shook his head. “Some Mid-Eastern terrorist dudes he thinks from what he’s seen. They shot three of the security men and dumped them outside the front door.”

“Oh my God.” Julia held her stomach and turned in a circle. She hadn’t eaten since lunch but was grateful for her empty stomach. Its contents would be coming up at this news.

For a moment, all three of them were quiet, both men staring at her. Julia closed her eyes and felt guilt swim through her veins like ice. She’d been tucked away in the middle of nowhere sleeping and having great sex with Con while Michael was being held hostage in his home by a terrorist.

Her brain shifted and a thought popped into her head. “What if Susan did this? What if this is Plan B?”

Conrad crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her like she’d grown a second head. “Oh, come on, Jules. Recruiting a terrorist to take Stone and Allen hostage? That’s crazy. Even Susan isn’t that good.”

“Isn’t she?” Julia was sure Susan was exactly that adept. “By doing this, she can take out Director Allen, Michael, and Senator King with one fell swoop and if she’s crafty enough, make herself look like a leader in the process. If Michael’s out of commission, she’s next in line to head up Operations.”

Conrad stared at her for a long moment, considering her logic. “But she wants Allen’s job.”

“One step at a time and only Damgaard’s in her way if Michael and Titus both die.”

Ace started opening and closing cabinet doors, scanning the shelves. “Ryan called some friend of his at the FBI and alerted them. He says the whole place is locked down now so we have to meet at Julia’s apartment.” He opened another cabinet, scanned the shelves and closed it again. “Don’t you got any of those travel mug thingies for drinks?”

Conrad opened a cabinet above the microwave and handed two thermal coffee carriers to Ace, all the time his focus still on Julia. “Susan could be watching your apartment. I don’t think it’s safe for us to meet there.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Con.” She shook her head. “Susan’s right there at Michael’s house with the FBI. Or she’s making herself comfortable in Michael’s office at Langley. She has bigger fish to fry right now than us. We can always be rounded up later.”

“And with Stone, Allen and King all out of the way, no one will believe us.”

Ace finished filling the travel mugs and turned off the coffeepot. Julia started for the stairs. “All I need are my shoes and my gun and I’m ready to go.”

Conrad grabbed the cooling mug of coffee off the counter and downed it, rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand and motioned at Ace to get moving. “You heard the lady. Let’s go.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Agent Tim Buchanan surveyed the scene before him.

When he’d first arrived, only a few people had been in the area, keeping their presence concealed as they garnered information about what had happened during the night at 9125 Thurman Lane. Now, sunrise only four hours away, blue box vans were arriving, bodies dressed in black Nomex jumpsuits piling out of them. Gone was the need to keep the counterassault a secret, but reasonable precaution dictated each person keep a low profile so as to not become the next target of whoever was in the house. Voices were hushed, movement was directed and purposeful.

And, finally, the rain had quit.

A base of operations for the Critical Incident Response Group and the FBI’s Strategic Information Operations Center, or SIOC, had been set up using several vans and a massive black tent top. Three portable tables had been set up, men and women of the FBI manning laptops, phones, televisions and fax machines.

Two of the vans’ cargo doors were open, revealing an impressive assortment of communications and electronic equipment which was being checked and tested by three of the FBI’s best cyber geeks. Telephone transmissions into and out of the house were being controlled. Incoming calls would be intercepted. Outgoing calls would only ring to the secure phone under Tim Buchanan’s watchful eye.

The nearest neighbors, who were a mile away on either side, had been evacuated. Traffic on the road was being diverted. Air space had been secured. The house itself sat quiet. The three bodies of the fallen Secret Service men lay sprawled beside the porch in pools of their own blood…the only visible testament to the seriousness of the situation.

The HRT’s best sniper, Agent Elaina Koburn, approached the table, nodding as she came to stand beside him. “What a way to start the day, huh, sir?”

Tim nodded. “Appears someone woke up on the wrong side of the world again and decided to take it out on us over-privileged Americans.”

She scanned the area with a dark look in her eyes. “Do we know what group we’re dealing with?”

“No contact with them yet, but probably a cell allied to bin Laden or another Middle East group according to my source.” He motioned toward the house. “That’s no group of everyday psychos in there. I’d say from the way the situation has proceeded up to this point, the attackers are intelligent and highly trained. Holy Warrior bad boys dispersing God’s wrath on us is my guess. I just can’t figure out why they haven’t made contact.”

“A mute entity is hard to negotiate with.”

“Negotiate?” Tim’s expression showed a spark of humor. “Why, Agent Koburn, you know the United States doesn’t negotiate with terrorists.”

Elaina smiled at him. “Of course it does, sir. That’s why we’re here.”

Within minutes, the rest of the HRT was present and accounted for as well as a Special Op group of SEALs. Tim welcomed them to the table. “First let’s start with what we know,” he said, glancing at the digital watch on his arm. “Approximately six hours ago, between six and seven p.m., a group of people including Senator Daniel King and CIA Director Titus Allen entered Operations Director Michael Stone’s house for a meeting between the three of them. None of these people have emerged from that meeting, nor can they be raised by phone. Neither the DCI’s driver nor his security protection officer have responded to pages or made contact with anyone since that time and we are assuming without further ID their bodies are those out front. Senator King was traveling alone. Director Stone had two security officers on the property, one at the gate, the other inside the house. No unusual or suspicious activity was reported by any security detail.”

Everyone was quiet. Tim continued. “The people in charge have not made contact with us at this point, but we are assuming they are terrorists. We do not know their demands and can only guess at their motive. I have been informed this is, so far, an isolated incident. The president and vice president are secured in their appropriate residences. All cabinet members and the other three CIA deputy directors are accounted for at this time. Susan Richmond, the CTC Chief, will be joining us shortly along with her top counterterrorism experts. All other congressional members have also checked in.”

Unrolling a sheet of blueprints, Tim anchored the corners on the table for everyone to examine. “We have secured the perimeter of the Stone residence and are ready for our counterassault team to begin reconnaissance shortly.”

Tim took a deep breath and rubbed his hands together. “Now, are there any questions?”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Their two a.m. breakfast of Hostess donuts and coffee in Julia’s small kitchen had been full of analyzing and brainstorming, but the trepidation in Smitty’s voice silenced them all.

“Uh-oh?” Ace spoke around a mouthful of powdered sugar donut, his eyes wide. “What ‘uh-oh’?”

Conrad motioned to Smitty as the phone buzzed again. “Give it to me. I’ll handle her.”

Smitty passed the phone across the table to him and Julia dropped her half-eaten donut on the plate in front of her, appetite gone.

Letting the phone ring a third time, Conrad flipped open the cover and chose his words carefully. “I’d say I was sorry Plan A failed, but you’d know I was lying.”

Julia smiled at him and he smiled back as he listened for Susan Richmond’s response. There was none for a few seconds.

“I assume your ex-partner is with you,” she said in a terse voice.

“Assume whatever you like.”

“I need to talk to her. We have a…” she paused, searching for the right terminology that could be used in an open phone conversation, “…
situation
that requires her skills.”

“Sure you do. And Osama bin Laden just confessed his sins to the Pope.”

“This concerns her friend at the Agency. He’s in serious danger.”

If Susan wanted to flush Julia out of hiding, Stone was the perfect carrot to dangle in her face. Conrad decided to play dumb and see what Susan tried next. “What kind of danger?”

The CTC chief sighed. “It’s just like you to need a visual aid, Solomon. Turn on CNN. I’ll call you back in five minutes.”

The call was terminated and Conrad threw the phone down on the table. He left the kitchen, his friends exchanging a glance between them before jumping up to follow.

In the living room, he flipped channels on the satellite dish receiver, landing on CNN. The female anchor was starting the hour’s top breaking news story. Conrad turned up the volume as Ace camped on the floor. Julia and Smitty stood behind Ace.

“Sources inside the White House confirm there is a domestic terrorist situation at the home of CIA director of Operations Michael Stone outside of Arlington, Virginia.”

Julia sucked in a sharp breath and shot a glance at Conrad. “It’s already on the national news? That’s bad. This broadcast is going worldwide. The terrorist is getting exactly what he wants.”

Conrad gave a curt nod. “And Susan along with him.”

“…We go now to WQPX correspondent, Gus Schultz, who is on location. Gus, what can you tell us?”

A panoramic view of Virginia countryside appeared, eerily beautiful in the dark of night. Only an assortment of commercial vans and Ninja figures moving around marred the otherwise peaceful setting. As the camera zoomed in on the TV news reporter, orange barricades and law enforcement officials could be seen in the background. “I am standing here a few blocks away from the home of Michael Stone. He is the Director of Operations for the Central Intelligence Agency. In other words, he is the man in charge of the CIA’s spy group. It is believed that along with Director Stone, there are several prominent members of the Washington political system being held hostage by a group of terrorists, including the CIA’s top man, Titus Allen, and Senator Daniel King, a democrat from Illinois and head of the Senate Intelligence Committee…”

“All thorns in Susan’s side,” Conrad murmured.

“I’m going to kill her,” Julia said to no one in particular.

“…Inside sources tell me Senator Daniel King and CIA Director Titus Allen were in attendance at the Stone home last night when a group of men, whose affiliation and motive are unclear at this point, infiltrated the house and took them hostage.”

Julia narrowed her eyes at the TV. “I will tear her limb from limb.”

“We have confirmation at least two Secret Service officers are dead and several others missing.”

“Three,” Smitty corrected. “Three are dead.”

The camera shifted away from the reporter and zoomed in at the area around the house. “The FBI has moved in a hostage rescue team and is being assisted by Special Operations commandos. I am told by an on-the-scene source that FBI negotiators are attempting to contact the terrorists now.”

The cell phone on the kitchen table rang, breaking the intensity of the moment. Julia was on her feet and moving toward it in a split second. Conrad moved to catch her, but Smitty was already a step ahead of him, wrapping a lanky arm around Julia’s slim waist and swinging her back in front of him.

She fought against his grip. “I’m going to claw her eyes out.”

“Let Con handle Susan,” Smitty said. “Then we’ll figure out how to resolve this.”

“
I
want to talk to her.”

Smitty shook his head, held Julia firmly. “No, Julia. Not while you’re this emotional. Let Con handle her this time. I promise you’ll get your chance to kill her later.” He nodded at Conrad.

Conrad walked into the kitchen, stared at the phone and took a deep breath. The situation was indeed serious, but Susan’s request for Julia’s assistance was out of line. Domestic terrorism was the FBI’s jurisdiction since Americans had a healthy suspicion and dislike for the CIA operating on its home turf. And what value was one CIA analyst to a highly organized and trained conglomerate of counterterrorism and counterassault experts?

It had to be another of Susan’s traps. Conrad ran a hand over his sandpaper beard before flipping the phone’s cover open. “I wouldn’t want to be you right now, Chief.”

Susan’s voice was more relaxed this time. “Oh, I don’t know. This situation could work in my favor. In the meantime, Damgaard has requested your partner’s presence at the site. Her knowledge about the people inside could be of great value to those in charge.”

“You know who the hostage takers are?”

Her silence lasted one beat too long. “The FBI has identified several possibilities.”

Conrad still wasn’t totally convinced Susan was capable of orchestrating a hostage situation itself, but he knew she was definitely capable of manipulating the fallout from it. “And what guarantee does my partner have that you won’t proceed with your previous plan?”

“No guarantees, but I’ll allow you to come in with her.”

Conrad snorted. “Way to dangle the carrot, Chief. The queen comes in after her friend and I come in after her. Aren’t you going to invite Smitty too?”

Susan tsked at him. Her voice now held challenge. “Afraid of me, Solomon?”

Gripping the phone to keep from throwing it against the wall, Con forced himself back from the edge. His mind tripped through Julia’s plan and another couple of scenarios, and he saw a kernel of opportunity sitting in his hand. He smiled as he spoke. “A piece of advice for you. If you’re going to hang your collective balls out, you better damn well know how to protect them.”

“My balls are in no danger from you, Solomon,” Susan said, bemused. “There will be ID badges and a personal escort waiting for you and your partner at the north entrance to the site. I expect to see her within the hour.”

She hung up and Flynn looked over to see Julia standing in the doorway, Smitty behind her.

“The web is strung.” He leaned on the table. “The spider’s waiting.”

Julia pulled the Beretta out of the back of her waistband and checked its clip. “Good.” She snapped it back in. “Then it’s time for me to give her what she wants.”