The Black List (36 page)

She looked at Carillo. When he shook his head, she answered, “No. Should I?”

“No. No. I’ll have a look first. What if it’s nothing? I do have to get going, love. If I find anything, I’ll ring you up.”

When Sheila heard the beep, signifying the call had disconnected, she held up her middle finger toward the phone, saying, “Ring this up, you bastard.” Then, to Carillo, she said, “I can’t believe how blind I was.”

“Sheila, you did great. Amazing, even.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he said, taking out his phone to call Tex. When he answered, Carillo said, “It’s done.”

“We’re setting up on the place now. Can’t wait to nail the little weasel.”

Eve heard the
click of the lock, then a faint squeak as the front door opened. Tex tapped her shoulder, pointed, then moved toward the light switch, ready to turn it on when the time was right. They were in the far corner of the darkened kitchen that stank of charred wood and smoke, the damage mostly confined to the stove area. A swath of moonlight fell across the carpet from the window near the TV stand. Sitting right on top was the case to Disney’s
The Jungle Book
. There were a few other children’s movies on the kitchen counter. Eve heard some static coming from her earpiece, but the radio seemed to be cutting out. There were two officers in the house across the street, watching from the neighbor’s front window, as well as two agents parked down the block in a van. She assumed someone was trying to radio them that Trip was on his way in, and she glanced toward Tex. He didn’t seem concerned, so she assumed it was only her radio that wasn’t working.

A floorboard creaked in the front hall, and then a figure stepped into the living room, seemingly unaware that they were watching from the kitchen. More static. And this time she saw Tex adjusting his earpiece. A moment later he gave her a thumbs-up and flicked on the light.

Trip, the DVD case in his hand, turned toward them, his eyes going wide. “Eve?”

She gave the DVD a pointed look. “
The Jungle Book
? Seems a little juvenile. Even for you.”

“This? It’s, uh, for Emmie.”

“You’ve found her, then?”

“No. But when she returns. You know, give her something to do.”

“He’s quite the devoted uncle,” Tex said.

“Isn’t he?” Eve replied. “So what’s on the DVD, then, Trip? What’s so important you’d risk coming out in public, especially after having the nerve to sic Barclay’s thugs on Sheila and her husband?”

“That?” He laughed, taking a step toward the door. “That was a misunderstanding. And I did call to warn them.”

“Or call to see if they’d been killed yet?”

“You’ve got it all wrong.”

Eve stepped forward, eyeing the DVD. “Aren’t you going to look at it?”

He snapped open the case and his face drained of color when he found it empty. “Where is it?”

“Ah, geez,” Tex said. “Did Sheila forget to mention that we found it the afternoon you left her to burn all alone upstairs? All that evidence against Barclay and A
.
D
.
E. scanned onto one disc. Amazing how much stuff you can fit on those things.”

“And it’s worth millions,” Trip said. “Barclay will do anything to get it back.”

“Is that all it was to you, Trip?” Eve asked. “A bargaining tool to extort money?”

“Not at first. But there’s still a chance we can get something.”

“You’re an idiot, Trip,” Eve told him. “It’s too late. We’ve turned it in.”

His face drained of color. “It’s not here? Do you realize what you’ve done? Barclay’s going to kill me.”

To which Tex said, “Only if he can get a gun into prison, since that’s where you’re both going.”

“Eve,” Trip said, taking a step toward her. “You said you’d help me.”

“I did help you. You were tied up in that warehouse and I cut you loose.”

More static in her earpiece, followed by the sound of the front door opening and closing.

She turned to see who had come in, expecting one of the officers from across the street.

Barclay stood just inside the door, a look of surprise flashing across his face when he saw Eve.

Apparently he wasn’t expecting to see her alive—and she might have relished the moment, had he not been pointing a gun at her.

61

“My sources told me
you were dead.”

The voice came from down the hallway, and Tex, still in the kitchen, couldn’t see who it was. Even so, he held his gun at a low ready position, and with his other hand keyed his radio, then tapped at his earpiece. Where the hell was their backup? Something had gone wrong, because he’d heard nothing but static since they’d gotten here.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Barclay,” Eve said, slowly lifting her hands, undoubtedly to warn him, without giving away his presence, that not only was her boss from A
.
D
.
E. there, but he was armed. “They probably lied to you so they’d get paid. It seems your little kidnap plot on the Somalian border didn’t quite go off as planned.”

Trip stepped to the side, away from her.

“Don’t move,” Barclay ordered. “Either of you.”

Tex edged his way toward the living room, then stopped when he realized he could see the hallway and Barclay’s reflection in the window. Barclay’s gun was pointed toward Eve and Trip, and he raised it, asking, “Where’s the DVD, Trip? You promised me it was here.”

“I—I thought it was.”

Tex knew he either needed to get Eve out of the line of fire or get Barclay into it. He looked around, saw one of the kid’s DVDs on the counter, and an idea struck. “I have it,” he called out, walking over to the counter, grabbing the DVD, then moving back to where he could see Barclay’s reflection. “Do you hear me?”

A burst of static on the radio sounded in his ear, and he realized the backup team could hear him. They must have realized there was a problem with the communication and were letting him know. To be sure, he said, “You do hear me, right?”

A second burst of static came through and he hoped it was a confirmation.

Trip, apparently thinking Tex was talking to them, nodded, pointing in Tex’s direction, probably eager to shift attention away from his sorry ass. “He told me he’d found it when I got here.”

“Who are you pointing to?” Barclay asked. “Who’s talking over there?”

Eve, holding very still, said, “A friend of mine.”

Tex unsnapped the case, removing the DVD with one hand, then holding it up, shiny side out. “Look in the window to the right of the television, Barclay.” Tex angled the disk back and forth several times. “You see it?” He heard a double click of static on the radio.

“Who are you?” Barclay demanded.

“Eve hired me. To help her find this,” he said, moving the DVD back and forth. “Heard it’s worth something to you.”

“It is.”

“Good. Because if anything happens to Eve, I’m gonna make a million copies of it. Front page news.”

“And you think you’ll get out of here?”

“Yeah, I do. Like you, I’ve got a gun. And a side door for a quick getaway. So here’s how it’s going to work. Eve is going to walk over here, get the DVD, toss it to Trip, and then she and I are going to leave out the side door. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Barclay said.

Trip turned a frantic eye toward Eve as she stepped toward the kitchen. “You’re not going to leave me here, are you?”

If Trip suspected the DVD was fake, he could ruin it for them. Tex pointed his gun at him. “Zip it, Trip.”

As Eve cleared the hallway, Tex, knowing that Barclay could see them, held out the DVD. He waited until Eve was close enough to reach it. But instead of letting her take it, he threw it toward Trip, grabbed Eve’s arm, then pulled her behind him.

“It’s fake!” Trip cried.

Barclay aimed his gun toward Trip.

A loud explosion sounded and the front and side doors burst open. Tex and Eve were pushed out of the way as uniformed officers carrying shields ran past them, storming the room.

Tex caught a glimpse of Trip diving to the floor, covering his head with his hands, and then Barclay being pushed to the ground as an officer screwed a gun in his ear, ordering him not to move.

He looked at Eve. “You okay?”

“I am now.”

Alice walked in, eyed the two of them. “Sorry about that bit of a radio problem.”

“Bit? Huge.”

“You managed to get past it, and in the end that is what counts, right?” She smiled, then stepped past them to where Barclay lay prone on the floor. “Bring the two of them out to the car. I believe MPS wants to interrogate Mr. Barclay about the spate of shootings in the area.”

One of the officers lifted Barclay to his feet, then walked him outside, another following with Trip.

Tex and Eve waited until they cleared before walking out to join Alice as they proceeded to advise both men of their rights.

“Quite the operation,” Alice said. “They’re serving search warrants on Barclay’s offices here, and I understand they are concurrently being served in the U.S.”

Barclay apparently heard, and he halted in his tracks, refusing to get into the police car, so that he could face them. “Serving a search warrant? On my offices? For what? Because a few people get hurt? That happens all over the world. It’s collateral damage. What we’re doing is for the greater good.”

“And what?” Tex said. “You’re so blinded by your goodness that you send hit men out to kill anyone who gets in your way?”

“As I said, the greater good.”

“Well, greater good this, asshole,” Tex said, helping him into the back of the police car. “Don’t sleep
too
soundly at night. Wouldn’t want to find yourself being dragged out of your cell to be resettled in another country that has the death penalty.”

“You can’t extradite me.”

“Not legally,” Tex said, slamming the car door shut.

“You realize,” Alice said to Tex, “that they’re like ants, these bad charities that are using the refugees for profit. We’ve stomped on this bunch, but who knows how many more will move in and take up the slack?”

“Maybe so. But no sense rolling out the red carpet for them when they move in.”

Eve walked up, placed her hand on Tex’s shoulder. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a break.”

They started to walk away, but he stopped, looked back at Alice. “Thanks for your help.”

“Any time, Tex.”

“I forgot to ask. Girl or boy?”

“Boy.”

He nodded, then grinned. “You could name him after me.”

“Recalcitrant is rather a long name for a child, don’t you think?”

“Cal for short.”

She smiled. “Have a good flight home, Tex.”

“Home?” He linked his arm through Eve’s. “Not yet. Got a dinner date at the Eiffel Tower.”

62

Sydney and Griffin sat
at their respective computers, poring over the digital photographs taken by the team that had entered the apartment allegedly used by Yusuf and the others to make a dirty bomb.

Normally Griffin would have been in there searching it himself, but the cesium 137 contamination necessitated the hands-off approach. Though he hadn’t yet seen the report from NEST and the bomb squad, the photographic evidence was clear: pipes, caps, wires, glass jars, nails, detonators, and two empty digital watch boxes on the floor. It was essentially everything they needed to make a couple of bombs.

That and the now empty capsule that had at one time contained the cesium 137 was disconcerting, to say the least. The highest reading came from the kitchen tabletop, a smaller amount on the floor. Most of the highly radioactive substance was still missing, and the only logical assumption was that they had managed to complete at least one bomb, but evidence showed they could have made two.

It was exactly what they’d feared. And though every law enforcement agency was on high alert, unless they came across something that told them where Yusuf might be heading, the odds of finding him in time were dwindling with each passing second.

“There’s nothing here,” Sydney said, rubbing her neck. “I’ve been over every scrap they photographed.”

“Keep looking. It’s clear we interrupted them in the middle of this thing. If we’re lucky, they dropped something, made a mistake.”

Sydney leaned back in her chair, then switched the mouse to the other hand, probably to give it a rest. “If they left—”

She stopped when the phone rang.

Griffin answered, and the secretary said, “There’s a Mr. Abasi on line two.”

“Thank you.”

He picked up the second line. “Mr. Abasi, what can I do for you?”

“I have been thinking about the man who was walking by right before we ran out of the flyers. He took one and crumpled it, shoving it in his pocket as though he did not care.”

“What about him?”

“I’ve seen him upstairs in the vicinity of the apartment where you found the radiation. According to the neighbor, he is a visitor who arrived on the very night you indicated. There is no other apartment he could have belonged to, and the fact he did not care . . . Who living there doesn’t care?”

“Your point, Mr. Abasi?”

“My point, Mr. Griffin, is that I recalled what he was wearing, which may help you find him. A black leather jacket, and a black hooded sweatshirt beneath the jacket, because he had the hood on. I saw him earlier in the day when his jacket was not zipped. The sweatshirt beneath had a San Francisco Giants logo on it.”

“Thank you, Mr. Abasi. That does help.”

“One more thing, Mr. Griffin. The boy across the street? He said that the man was carrying a large blue backpack when he left, and a smaller black bag.”

Griffin thanked him once more, then, just to be sure that the subject Abasi saw was not one of the men already in custody, he called the team that had made the arrest. “The suspects you picked up from the apartment. Any of them wearing a black hooded San Francisco Giants sweatshirt or black leather jacket?”

“Not a one,” the agent said.

“Thanks.”

He hung up, then called McNiel. “We need to get a clothing description added to the bulletin.” He gave him Mr. Abasi’s description.