Sandstorm (6 page)

“Finished?” Alex asked innocently.

“All yours,” she responded, brushing by him with barely a look.

“Thank you.”

Alex plopped his frame into the seat, took a momentary glance at the hustle and bustle on the street, and then returned to his paper. He pulled out his cell phone and laid it on the table. Dressed in a gray polo shirt and black pleated microfiber pants, Alex was not only comfortable, he also blended into the landscape without drawing any attention. He opened the sports section and headed for the box scores to find the breakdown of the Cubs game. It was early in the season, but seeing them only three games out of first place was encouraging. Thinking about Chicago reminded him he was due to make all the necessary family calls. He hadn’t talked to his parents for two weeks, and his California-sunshine sister had now left a phone message and two e-mails. Her last message started out with, “Where in the freaking world are you?”

Alex turned a page of the newspaper and in doing so, slid over a napkin that had been lying on the table ever since he sat down. Written on it inside a circle was a simple plus sign. Anyone else would have interpreted it as simple doodling, but to him, it meant all area surveillance cameras were under control and everything else necessary to pull off his plan was in place and ready to go.

Satisfied, he took one more look around. Grabbing his phone, he sent a text message to several people. It read,
Send Bambi into the forest.

Five minutes later, a taxi pulled up in front of the coffeehouse and Nora emerged. It was startling for Alex to see her this way because with the aid of a blond wig, she now looked like the Nora he remembered. She entered the establishment and got in line, glancing at Alex only as a reference point. She used her debit card to pay for her order. It bore not the alias she was using to travel halfway around the world, but rather her real name. With order in hand, she looked for a seat. A man dressed in construction gear and a Redskins hat dotted with paint drippings motioned her his way. When she arrived at his stool along the countertop, he was happy to get a closer look. He offered his seat, saying it was time to get to work.

Alex covertly followed her movement. He could tell, even from his vantage point, that her eyes were devoid of contact lenses, revealing a set of green eyes that had once captivated him. The long-haired wig was virtually undetectable as being a fake. Alex wanted more than anything for this charade to end. The next ten or fifteen minutes would provide the answer. He didn’t want to think about what his future would bring should he be wrong about this situation. He wanted to walk away clean, send Nora on her way, and perhaps fly to Chicago to see his parents and take in a Cubs game. After that he’d entertain flying out west to surprise his sister. That sounded like a plan, much better than the one hastily put in place now. He drew some comfort in knowing that quality people were involved and that therefore there was little, except for the unexpected, that could go wrong.

CHAPTER
11

Even though the bland navy blue sedan had no distinguishing markings, any native Washingtonian could guess with a high degree of accuracy that it either belonged to the feds, District police, or one of the local TV news stations. It essentially was a case of hiding in plain sight.

Karl Peters was in the back seat, his mind racing. He didn’t usually get to utilize the services of a driver, and he hadn’t really said much of anything to the man, but then he realized they were heading west on New York Avenue. To save time and aggravation during the morning rush, his driver was avoiding the backlog of the Beltway. This route would take them along K Street Northwest, a straight shot to the Whitehurst Freeway that accessed the George Washington Parkway and its gradual climb to Langley.

“Luis, no rush,” Peters said. “In fact, let’s take the scenic route.”

Having grown up in the District and being an avid bike rider, Luis had been a human navigation center long before technology caught up. He acknowledged Peters’s request by switching lanes through heavy traffic just in time to make a left-hand turn onto North Capitol Street Northeast. Like Peters, he was single, and every now and then, a private perk on company time was a welcome thing. It was shortly after eight in the morning on what promised to be another spring gem in the nation’s capital. The various Metro stops would be emptying the District’s vast female workforce (Union Station was a gold mine) and Congress was in session, all of which guaranteed a beauty pageant.

With the heavy traffic load, they had no choice but to coast around the House and Senate buildings. Peters was impressed with his driver’s innate knowledge. “Something tells me you’ve done this before.”

“Yes, sir,” was the response as a shapely brunette in a floral dress crossed in front of them at a stop sign. “I certainly have.”

Rolling into the heart of the District along Massachusetts Avenue, Peters took note of the time. Sadly, this distraction would have to come to an end. There was much work to be done. Once at Langley, he’d spend a large chunk of time getting briefed by legal before having to return to the District for a late-morning sit-down with Janway’s husband at his firm. They had debated sending a legal representative with him, but decided that doing so would send the wrong message. In the final analysis, Champion felt Peters’s down-to-earth disposition would make the sympathy he expressed believable and possibly get Paul Janway to relax somewhat. If legal teams got involved and motions started flying back and forth, everyone would lose.

The sight of a Starbucks ahead reminded Peters that he had yet to get his morning latte. He knew that by now Champion would be on at least his third cup of coffee, so he’d brownnose it and get his boss some quality ground beans. The man did love his coffee.

“Drop me off at the Starbucks on the next block,” Peters requested. There was absolutely no place to park, so Luis stopped the vehicle in traffic and was more than willing to double park for as long as it took, no matter how many angry looks or horns he had to endure. Peters told him the dedication was unnecessary. Grabbing the door handle, he said, “Shouldn’t take too long, so just drive around the block. No need to piss people off. Do you want anything, Luis?”

It was the second time this morning Luis was impressed with his passenger. This had been only the third time in over a year he’d chauffeured Mr. Peters around. Luis was flattered that the man had cared enough to remember his name, let alone be considerate enough to ask if he was thirsty or hungry.

“No thanks, sir. But I appreciate you asking. I’ll just circle a couple of times and pick you back up in a minute.”

Exciting the vehicle, Peters followed procedure and buttoned his sport coat, in order to conceal the holstered weapon he would probably never have to fire. He entered the noisy, packed coffeehouse. It was always amusing to him how a company like this had found the formula of appealing to people’s laziness and desires in one successful swoop. Too busy to make coffee at home? Or too lazy? Whatever the answer, it added up to profit.

There were so many people engaged in their own distractions that Peters, trying to pay attention to the line moving, totally missed the stunning blonde passing by him on her way out. He did manage to casually catch a glimpse of her from behind as she opened the door. His attention got diverted to his cell phone. The customized beeps indicated it was an urgent message. Grabbing his phone, he stepped out of line and speed-dialed Langley. The line was answered on the first ring.

“This is Peters, I just got notified to call.”

His eyes widened as he was relayed information. He headed toward the exit.

“Where?” he shouted into the phone, pressing it firmly against his ear, trying to hear over all the noise. The answer stopped him dead in his tracks. He immediately looked up and began searching faces in the coffeehouse.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Shit, I’m there! I’m standing right in the place. I’ll get back to you.” He ended the call, pocketed the phone, and in the process unbuttoned his jacket. Looking over the crowd, he didn’t see what he hoped to find. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a photograph and then bumped his way past grumbling patrons to the front of the line.

The cashier said, “Excuse me sir, but there’s a line,” and motioned for the customer behind Peters to step forward. Peters quickly flashed his identification and holstered weapon before holding up the photo of Nora.

“Have you seen this woman? She might have just been here. Paid with a debit card.”

The freckle-faced girl was now a little nervous as her coworkers began to take notice. “No, I haven’t, but…” She looked behind her. “Steve. Steve!” She motioned frantically. “Get over here!”

A slightly older man came sauntering over, wondering what the urgency was. She pointed to the man from the CIA. Steve took a look at Peters’s credentials and immediately straightened up. Peters hurriedly tried again. “Have you seen this woman? She paid with a debit card just a few minutes ago.”

The worker produced a look of admiration. “Yeah, I served her.” He glanced beyond Peters into the seating area. “She was just here, took a seat. But I don’t see her now.” Peters didn’t bother saying thank you as he rushed for the exit.

With all the noise in the coffee shop, few people noticed the momentary change in its pattern, and yet Alex registered the slight commotion unfolding at the cashier’s counter. Though he couldn’t hear everything, he did hear “
Seen this woman?”
when a man held up something in his hand. Alex went into a state of disbelief. This couldn’t be happening this fast. From his window seat he could see that Nora had a slight head start as she strolled down the street. Still, she was clueless as to what was now taking place. Alex had to deal with the situation fast. What concerned him most was not knowing if the man had backup waiting outside. Alex calmly rose from his seat and managed to maneuver himself a few steps behind the man as he hurriedly pushed through the exit door. Alex’s appearance on the street so soon—without having sent anyone a text with instructions—was a warning to others in place that something was wrong.

The bright sun greeted Peters as he frantically looked up and down the street and across it, examining every woman moving. He stopped when he saw the woman who had momentarily caught his attention in the coffee shop as she was leaving. He began walking at a faster pace toward her as she sauntered down the street. His mind was in rapid mode, analyzing. Long blond hair. Physically fit. Just left the coffeehouse. Had to be. But it didn’t make sense. No matter, that would get sorted out later. He was now just a few yards behind. Close enough to be heard.

“Nora,” he shouted. “Nora Mossa.”

The woman didn’t stop. She didn’t speed up or slow down either. She seemed oblivious to his calls. He could be wrong.

“Nora Mossa. Stop!”

This time the woman came to a halt. Peters reacted by slowing down to almost a crawl. He inched his hand closer to his holstered weapon as he approached.

“Nora Mossa,” he said, under control. “Turn around … very slowly.”

She did not move, keeping her back to him instead. He was now five feet away, and his hand firmly gripped his weapon, ready to draw if necessary. At that instant, Peters’s peripheral vision caught a figure reflected in a storefront window. It was a man. That much he could tell, and that the man was directly behind him. Gun now out of its holster, Peters tried to turn, but the blow that descended at the base of his neck was lightning fast and well placed. It made the nerve endings in his body go haywire. A swift kick was delivered to the back of his already buckling right knee. The gun dislodged from Peters’s hand before he hit the pavement. He could see his weapon being kicked away by the same foot that had brought him down. That foot then reversed itself and came crashing into his face, sending him into near unconsciousness. Peters didn’t give in totally to the dizziness that enveloped him, but he couldn’t move a muscle in his body. He did manage to hear his assailant yell at the woman.

“Get going.”

Peters wanted to look up and assess the situation, but he couldn’t. He merely saw the man’s shoes walk out of view, and then he blacked out.

Alex paused until Nora got into a waiting car that spun off down Connecticut Avenue, then he returned to the man lying on the ground. Knowing he had to work fast and hoping no one in the growing curious crowd had the presence of mind to use a camera or mobile phone to capture the moment, he kneeled and checked the fallen man’s pockets. He found a photograph of Nora, taken recently, and replaced it. He then quickly inspected the man’s wallet. Satisfied, Alex got up and darted across the street.

“Idiot,” Luis said under his breath as he hit the brakes to avoid hitting the man in a gray shirt and dark slacks that ran right out in front of his vehicle. He watched the asshole duck into the morning crowd before disappearing down into the Dupont Circle Metro Station. Luis continued on his way, and not seeing Peters waiting outside the coffeehouse, he slowly maneuvered the sedan around the corner. He paused to take a look inside to see if Peters was on his way out, but was then drawn to an area up the street that seemed to captivate the interest of a number of people. The sedan continued its lazy progress. Luis strained his neck to see what was going on. Through a couple of legs he managed to see the figure of a man lying on the ground. And then he caught a slight glimpse of the man’s clothing. Luis slammed the brakes again and was out almost before the car was shifted into park. He was not polite as he pushed people aside. “Damn,” he muttered to himself. He checked to make sure Peters was still breathing. Relief set in when the man began moving.

“Sir, we need to get you out of here. You need medical attention.”

Luis, although small in stature, was in excellent shape from his bike riding, so picking up Peters and putting him over his shoulder was not that difficult a task. “Anybody see what happened here?” he asked the parting crowd.

A man wearing a short-sleeved flannel shirt that screamed
tourist
spoke as Luis made his way to the car. “Some guy hit him from behind and knocked him to the ground. Robbed him too, I think.”