Mortal Crimes: 7 Novels of Suspense (169 page)

But mostly, he kept seeing the Almighty fly backwards with Julia’s laptop sailing end over end and a look of surprise on his face. And that ridiculous geek tie, perforated with a 7.62 millimeter round at 860 meters per second.

Not the Almighty at all, just some kid, a computer genius, who’d got involved in the wrong project and paid for it first with his sanity, and then with his life. Did he have parents? Would they ever know their son was dead?

With Ian’s head filled with troubling thoughts like this, sleep would be a long time in coming. Or maybe it was more than that. How many times had he used the “alert” feature on his implant that day? Half a dozen? He tried to count each time he had juiced his brain for more energy. Some of the times, he realized now, were almost unintentional, like a reflex. Maybe not such a good idea—you got tired for a reason. And he didn’t like becoming dependent on the very thing that was putting his life in danger.

But there was something else even more alarming. The energy stim command felt different than it had in Africa. Ever since he woke up in the asylum and tried to use it again, his brain wasn’t responding the same way. It didn’t last as long. Each time it seemed to do less and less to keep him alert. Was his brain adapting to the stimulus? Maybe, but there was something more. Then he realized what was bothering him about the energy boost.
He liked it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“And you’re sure she’s alive?” Anton Markov asked.

“She’s alive.” Bags lined Sarah’s eyes and she held a huge mug of coffee in a death grip.

It was an hour before dawn on the morning after the incident in Utah and he’d driven the nearly deserted, gray streets of Washington to Sarah Redd’s office across from the Capitol Building.

Markov was an early riser and never needed coffee to get his day started, but the early summons wiped out his gym time and he felt out of sorts if he didn’t get his daily exercise. He sat stiffly while Sarah paced back and forth.

“Here’s what we know,” she said. “At least one of the inmates died in the explosion. We found his body near the guard station. The building itself was leveled and we’ve only just managed to fend off local law enforcement to conduct our own investigation.”

“What do you mean by leveled?” Markov asked.

“We destroyed it ourselves, since we had word that inmates were still holed up inside. Several dead bodies in and around the building, but it will take days to identify remains. But at least one person escaped. Julia accessed an ATM at a truck stop north of Nephi.”

“You’ve seen the ATM footage?”

“Right,” she said. She took a long drink from her coffee. “There’s nobody else in the picture and she doesn’t appear to be in duress. We assume she’s operating of her own free will. She abandoned her rental car and stole a car and hasn’t been seen since. Local law enforcement is on the lookout for the car, but it’s a dark blue Toyota. Got to be thousands of those on the road.”

“And it won’t help that immediately after stealing the car, she swapped plates,” Markov said.

Sarah gave him a look. “Yes, how did you know? A man called the police in some little town called Payson, Utah, to say that someone had changed his plates. He caught the change because the first three letters of his plates were the same as his wife’s initials, otherwise he might not have noticed for days. Lucky break for us.”

“There’s someone else with her,” Markov said. “She’s not alone.”

“How can you be sure?”

“She escaped, first of all. How did she get past security if she was alone? I’m guessing that she was with the inmates as they rushed the guards.”

“We already knew that,” Sarah said. “The guards would have concentrated on the inmates and maybe she slipped past in the confusion. And even if she escaped with one or more of the prisoners, maybe they split up and went separate ways.”

“You need to think like Julia,” Markov said. “She’s risked everything to free Ian Westhelle from the psych ward. She’s desperate to find out what happened. No, I don’t think she’d split up with Agent Westhelle, not if she had any say. Then what did she do? She stole a car and she swapped out license plates. But that’s the behavior of a field operative concealing his tracks, not a doctor. So I assume they’re traveling together. That complicates our search, but at the same time it means that if we find one, we’ll have both. Has she called Terrance?”

“Well, no. Terrance called her, but she didn’t pick up. It went to voice mail, though, and she hasn’t called in to retrieve his message, give us a new bead on her location. The ATM was north of Nephi, in the direction of Salt Lake. The man with the stolen plates had also stopped there to gas up.”

“Ian might have feinted north, then headed in some other direction,” Markov said.

“We thought about that. We’re stopping cars near St. George and the freeway approaches to Las Vegas, and tracking roads leading in and out of Utah. We had a couple of leads in Salt Lake City and Boise, Idaho, but nothing has panned out so far.”

“What other resources have you committed?”

“I’ve got a pair of spookies crisscrossing the state, trying to send instructions to Ian’s implant. Chang whipped up something that should disable Agent Westhelle if we can get in range.”

“How many agents on the ground?”

“None, yet.”

This surprised Markov. “That’s big country out there, a million places to hide. They could hole up until we exhaust ourselves looking. Without agents on the ground, we might never find them.”

“I could live with that,” she said. “I just need them out of the way until we resolve matters in Namibia.”

Sarah finished her coffee, then frowned at the bottom of the mug. She held it out for Markov. “Would you mind?”

Markov dutifully went to the coffee machine in the break room, poured her a fresh cup and then started a new pot. He brought it back with a handful of sugars and creamer packets.

“Two sugars, one cream,” she said when he tried to hand it over.

He clenched his teeth as he mixed in the sugars and the creamer, then gave her the mug. She took it without comment, drank deeply.

“What exactly is going on in Namibia?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll handle it. But the situation is touchy, to say the least. The Chinese are furious, the Namibians are even more pissed off. Even our friends in the Namibian government are getting anxious.”

Markov listened, and nodded. So much political capital burned, so many assets wasted, and for what? He knew precious little. It wasn’t a simple recon mission gone wrong, of course. He knew about the Chinese drilling concessions, of course, the scope of their work in the country, but why was this so important, so
urgent
, for America? Nobody asked his opinion, but he thought it was time cut losses, make apologies, and get out.

“All the more reason to track down Westhelle and Dr. Nolan,” Markov said. “What if Westhelle wants to go back to Africa and “finish what he started” like he was ranting in Namibia? He’s capable of anything. Forget the mess he made in Utah, the guy killed his best friend.”

“Yes, that’s right,” she said. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“So send a ground team. Neutralize Westhelle. Better yet, capture him, if you can.”

“Very good. Can you fly out today?”

Markov blinked. “Me? I’m not field ready.”

“Oh, get off it,” she scoffed. “I can’t believe you’re squeamish. I’ve read your file.”

He thought about the people he’d killed, about the wife of the Sudanese ambassador, struggling for breath. “I’m not squeamish. It’s my physical skills. I’m pushing forty-five, Westhelle is what, twenty-eight, twenty-nine? Former special ops, athlete. I need to be realistic about my abilities.”

“I’m not asking you to go
mano a mano
with the guy. But you can track him down, you’re good at that.”

“And when I find him?”

“Take a team, let them do the dirty work. Just make sure they’re guys who can keep their mouths shut.”

“Theoretically, they all can,” he said. “It’s a requisite of the job.”

“Maybe, but I need to be sure. That’s why I’m sending you. You know how to take orders, and you have a knack for finding people who don’t want to be found, and you know how to keep your mouth shut. This is bigger than just one botched mission, Anton. The entire implant program is jeopardized if he is captured and the implant is discovered. It puts one of our most crucial intelligence secrets at risk.”

Ah, so that was it. He was not a particularly curious man, but again, he wondered what was going on that Sarah seemed so anxious to keep it quiet.

“Fine. Let me gather a few things and I’ll be in Utah by this afternoon.”

His mind was already formulating a short list of field operatives. And he’d need computer assets, money. Military resources, satellite images. Oh, and contacts in Canada and Mexico when Ian fled the country, as he surely would, rather than booking a ticket directly for Africa.

“Just keep him out of Namibia, whatever you do,” Sarah said. “Can I have your word on that?”

“I don’t make promises about unknowable events.”

“No? Well here’s a knowable event. You don’t catch Ian Westhelle, this is going to get out. And if it does, I’ll have no choice but to tender my resignation to the president. When I go down, it will be like a giant ship sinking, with everyone swimming as hard as they can in every direction to keep from getting sucked to the bottom with me. You, you’re so close that I’m quite certain that you’ll drown.”

“I understand,” Markov said. “Perfectly.”

________

As soon as Markov left her office, Sarah Redd got on the phone. She was in full damage-control mode now, and it was time to cut Terrance loose.

Markov, that fool. The only good thing about him was his loyalty, his by-the-books, hierarchy-driven mentality. She’d rather have a brilliant innovator like Tim Stevens in the field, or better, Gretchen Caruthers. Either would be better at taking down Westhelle and Julia Nolan. But they were also more likely to screw up spectacularly.

The phone picked up, rattled for a minute as the person on the other end banged around to get the receiver to his ear. “Yeah?” Terrance asked in a groggy voice.

“Were you asleep?”

“No, not at all.” He sounded more alert by an order of magnitude. “I’m awake.”

“Whatever, get your butt out of bed and get some coffee or something. It’s almost night in Namibia and I need you to get hold of our contacts before they disappear for the weekend.”

“Okay, what do you need me to tell them?” Terrance asked.

“We’re done, we’re out.”

“Huh, what?”

“You know what I mean. Things are out of control and we have to back out. That means no SOCOM support, no covert actions, nothing. They’re on their own. No, better that you tell them that our official position will be that the current government of Namibia is legitimate and we will resist any attempts to undermine the democratic underpinnings of Namibian society, blah, blah, blah.”

“But that’s a complete reversal. The army is ready to move, and our friends in the government are counting on us. And the Chinese—”

“I know what it means,” Sarah said. “They’re going to be angry, and it will probably just help the Chinese solidify their holdings. But it doesn’t matter. We have to step back and lick our wounds.”

Terrance was quiet for a long time. “This is going to hurt,” he said at last. “I mean personally. I’ve already made certain commitments. I have obligations.”

“Financial, you mean.”

“That’s right. I need the money.”

“Why don’t you just blurt it out,” she said. “Because nobody has ever tapped a phone before. God.”

What an idiot. Like a kid with his first job who buys a sports car and gets a bunch of credit cards. He’d overspent, based on his anticipated take from Namibia. Well, it had all been speculative, nothing guaranteed. He was going to learn that the hard way.

“It’s over, Terrance. You can thank your wife for that.”

“How is Julia?”

“She’s fine,” Sarah lied. “We’ll bring her back in a few days. Of course, she’ll have to find other work. This is too big a screw-up for me to cover for her, but I’ll let you deal with that later. First, take care of Namibia.”