The Black List (32 page)

Eve was not
going down without a fight. She tried biting at the hand, thrashing, kicking, but the blows she expected never came, and when she looked into her captor’s eyes she was surprised to see a finger at his—her?—mouth, signaling for quiet. She stared at the wraith, her heart racing as she tried to hear past the pulse pounding in her ears.

“Eve. Quiet,” came the whisper.

She stilled, looked past the head coverings to the eyes that watched her. “Lisette?”

“Yes.”

Eve would have collapsed had she not been on the ground. “Thank God. Tex is still in there. He’s hurt.”

“How bad?”

“Ribs, I think.”

“Can he walk?”

“I think so. You have a plan?”

“Not yet. But we’re working on it. According to our source, we have about five minutes to get Tex out of there before their reinforcements get here to whisk you two over the border.” She helped Eve to her feet, then took her hand, leading her away from the house. “This way.”

Eve glanced back, saw the tiny opening she’d escaped from. “We can get him out. Between the two of us—”

“You were lucky. A guard walks around the yard every few minutes. How you missed him, I don’t know.”

And as if to prove her words, they heard the scrape of the guard’s feet on the grit of dirt. The two women stilled, waited for him to pass, and Eve was grateful his attention seemed less on the building itself or even his surroundings and more on where he was walking. When he disappeared around the front, they continued on, meeting with Donovan and an army officer, holed up behind a cover of thick brush, watching the place with night vision goggles.

“Nice of you to join us, Eve,” Donovan said.

“Would have been here sooner if I’d known you were waiting.”

“This is Robert.” She shook hands with him as Donovan explained, saying, “Apparently this group isn’t known for reasoning or fair play. The moment they suspect they’re being set upon, they kill their hostages. So you can understand why we didn’t send the cavalry in.”

She felt a knot in the pit of her stomach at the thought of Tex lying in that dark room. Alone. Hurt. “Tell me what I need to do.”

“Sort of playing this one by ear, but after watching you slip out of there, I’m thinking that will also be Tex’s only hope.”

“I tried lifting it by myself.”

“I’m sure between me, Robert, and Tex, we can do it. Only we’re going to need a very big distraction out front. Something big enough that all hands on deck go running.”

Eve examined the robes and niqab that Lisette wore. “If you can find another set like that for me, and a couple jerry cans, I have an idea.”

The robes were
stifling, and Eve couldn’t imagine having to wear something like that day in and day out in the heat or not. She was already sweating and sticky before putting the robes on. It was worse now, and she had to make a mental effort to get past it as she and Lisette each carried a heavy jerry can filled with sloshing liquid toward the terrorist house. No one bothered them, not that there was anyone out at this hour. This part of the town was fairly deserted, perhaps because the inhabitants knew their neighbors were dangerous.

When they rounded the corner of the path that would take them to the house, they lowered their cans to the ground, then rolled them across the sand with their feet, like they saw the women doing back at the refugee camp. As they approached the house, Eve kept watch from the corner of her eye. No one confronted them.

The guard who walked the grounds eventually made his way to the front, saw them, and yelled something. She had no idea of the meaning, and she called out,
“Nini? Nini?”

It was the only thing she knew to say. She’d heard the women yelling it at the camp, then the echo of whatever had been spoken to them, so figured it meant
What?

He yelled again, this time taking a step toward them.

“Here goes,” Eve said. She shoved her can as hard as she could, watched it roll toward the front of the house. The man stopped it with his foot, shouting at them. A moment later the front door opened and two more men looked out. The guard turned toward the house, talking rapid fire, undoubtedly explaining what he’d seen, his foot still on the water jug.

Eve stepped in front of Lisette, blocking the guard’s view while Lisette bent over, pulled off the top of her jug, stuffed a rag inside it, then lit the thing on fire.

The guard swung his gun in their direction, and Lisette pulled Eve away, dropped the jug on its side, and kicked it straight toward the house.

The three men stared in disbelief, not moving.

The two women picked up their robes, turned and ran, Eve looking back over her shoulder in time to see the guard diving away and the men jumping back inside the house, shouting something. A loud explosion shook the air, and she felt the heat of it as the flames jumped up. It did not blow up the house, and the two men inside looked out, yelling, and she heard them running in their direction.

She only hoped they didn’t catch her and Lisette before they reached safety.

54

Tex wasn’t sure how
long he’d been in that room, how long it had been since Eve escaped. He hoped she’d made it, hoped Donovan was out there somewhere. And if truth be told, he hoped like hell he’d make it out, because he wanted that date in Paris. Maybe she’d stand him up, change her mind once the light of day came, but he wanted that chance.

He tried once again to lift the metal, but it held fast, and the loud creaking noise made him worry they might overhear, then discover that Eve was missing before she had an opportunity to get away. He shifted around so he could look out the hole at the stars. Damned lot of them out here in the middle of nowhere, he thought, a moment before the world around him shook. The explosion seemed to echo off the walls, blowing them apart. The door burst open and he saw one of the kidnappers standing there, a wild look on his face. The man pointed his gun at him, and Tex felt a rush of air as shots were fired and someone yanked him head first through the hole.

Gunfire cracked through the metal as someone returned fire, and then he was free and Donovan and a uniformed army officer were pulling him to his feet, dragging him across the barren yard to the cover of the bushes. Someone sliced his hands free, and he ran with the men, ignoring the sharp pain in his side from his bruised ribs. And just as he and the others cleared the house, several uniformed troops ran past them, apparently to clean up the mess, now that the hostages were free.

“You okay?” Donovan asked him, as they neared a Jeep parked next to a military truck. And standing between both vehicles were Lisette and Eve, a sight for sore eyes, even if they were both dressed in drab head-to-toe robes.

Eve ran up, hugged him. “You’re okay?”

“Ouch . . .”

She backed off. “Sorry.”

“I’m fine. Been through worse.”

Lisette gave him a gentler hug. “Good to have you back.”

“Any chance we can get the hell out of this godforsaken desert?”

Donovan smiled. “Can’t be too injured. You’re just as cranky as ever. But I’m with you. Let’s get the hell out of here. Marco’s waiting for us in Garissa. A little perturbed that he missed the fun.”

“What’s he doing there?”

“Babysitting Micah.” He turned to the army officer. “I think we’re ready to head back, Robert. Thank you for your assistance.”

“Just to make sure you don’t lose your way again, we’ll escort you to the airstrip.”

“An offer we’re not about to refuse.”

Every bump in
the road, such as it was, was like a stab to his bruised side, but anything was better than being in that dark shack alone, and Tex wasn’t about to complain. A small plane took them from the Liboi airstrip to Garissa. Once they were in the air on their way to the Nairobi airport, he relaxed.

Micah, seated next to Eve, and behind him on the too small plane, felt it necessary to give a dissertation of his trip at the camp. “I’m not sure I’ll go back anytime soon. Mind you, I’m glad I did,” he said, “but the accommodations there are atrocious.”

So much for the philanthropist, Tex thought as Marco, seated next to him, did his best to feign politeness. Once they landed, Tex grabbed Marco’s arm, saying, “Please tell me I’m not sitting anywhere near that guy? I’ll take a screaming baby over him any day.”

“Tough break,
amico mio
. The ATLAS jet awaits and we have to stop off in London first. How are you?”

“Bruised is all.”

Marco grinned. “Don’t want to ride back to the States with him, then? If not you, who’s going to make sure he arrives safe and sound?”

“You. I’ll trade you the next two ops if you go. I’d have a hard time knowing that he’s gonna go on with his fund-raising.”

“His, how do you say it?
Gig
is legitimate. It’s the government contractor A
.
D
.
E. taking his money who is not. At least according to the CIA. I have a feeling that once he gets back and sits down with them to sort it all out, his future fund-raising efforts might be curtailed for a bit.”

Tex stood. “Let’s get this show on the road. Eve and I have a bone to pick with her ex-boss at A
.
D
.
E.”

55

Joint Terrorism Task Force Briefing

FBI Headquarters

Sydney stood at the
back of the crowded room next to Griffin, watching Pearson and the unit chief at the front. Every chair was filled with FBI agents and DC Metro officers, all waiting to be briefed on the upcoming operation. There wasn’t a uniform or identifying insignia in sight, since the entire op would be handled undercover.

“Listen up,” Bill Barry, head of the Terrorism Section, said, then waited for everyone to quit talking. “We have a report from a credible source that Yusuf has definitely entered the country and has activated a cell in our area. More importantly we believe he has the means to construct a small radioactive device.
If
any of you come in contact with anything that looks remotely like what you see on the second page of the op plan, do not touch it, pick it up, examine it, and most of all don’t breathe near it unless your life insurance policy is paid up to date. The powder is extremely radioactive and it won’t take much to kill you. Any questions so far?”

No one had any.

“Turn to page three.” The sound of rustling paper filled the room for several seconds before he continued. “On this page you’ll see a screen shot of the vehicle we believe was used to pick up Yusuf from the Greyhound bus station. The man you see getting into the vehicle is, we believe, Yusuf. The driver is unknown, but the registered owner is Salim Sharif.”

An agent in the front raised his hand, saying, “And if we find him or his vehicle?”

“Because of the threat of the possible nuclear substance, do not enter the vehicle. Assume the car is contaminated, assume any subjects in the car are contaminated. NEST will take over from there to handle the vehicle, subjects, and anything else found from that point on,” he said, referring to the Nuclear Emergency Support Team deployed to the area.

He continued with the remainder of the op plan, then went through the assigned teams. “Any questions?”

There were a few, quickly answered, and they started filing out.

Griffin, Sydney, McNiel, and Pearson remained behind while the room cleared. Technically, they wouldn’t be joining in the actual hunt for Sharif, or even Yusuf. They’d been following up on the names from the Dadaab list, hoping it would lead to the other cells. Right now their job was intel and support, something Sydney gathered that Griffin wasn’t used to. But after seeing him nearly killed in front of her eyes, his hovering behind the scenes away from the action suited her just fine. “Have you had breakfast yet?” she asked him as they followed McNiel and Pearson.

“A piece of toast on the way out the door.”

“That’s breakfast?”

He gave her a sideways glance. “What’d you have?”

“Pop tart. Unfrosted. Toasted just long enough to get the corners dark brown.”

Pearson looked over his shoulder at the two of them. “We’re going out for an omelet. If you two gourmets can pull yourselves away from such an enticing culinary discussion, you’re welcome to join us. It’ll take the task force a while to set up and get out there. And who knows when we’ll get to eat again.”

His words turned out to be true. And yet, with all the FBI agents in the field, it was the police department that found the vehicle in question, with Salim Sharif behind the wheel. At a gas station two blocks from the omelet house.

So much for breakfast.

“McNiel volunteered you
for the sketch,” Griffin told Sydney once they cleared the scene and returned to the office. “I’ll drive you over.”

“I thought we had a photo of Yusuf?”

“We do. Just not a current one. Hard to say how much he’s changed sitting in some jail cell. More importantly, we still don’t know if that’s who Sharif picked up from the bus station, since the surveillance photos aren’t clear.” They took the elevator down. “The PD has Sharif in an interview room. He’s cooperative and comes up clean as far as any radiation.”

“And if he hadn’t?”

“Guess you’d be doing it in a space suit.”

They set up in an interview room at the station. Griffin stood outside the room, watching behind the one-way glass while Sydney conducted the interview and started the sketch. The detective who was assisting with the investigation walked up beside Griffin, saying, “Not sure if your office is interested, but we found a phone in his car. He says it’s not his.”

“Anyone run anything on it?”

“No. In light of what’s going on, we figured it was best to keep it intact. Not exactly our expertise. And, while we’d normally book the thing in our evidence locker, it made the radiation detector go beep-beep-beep. Since the only place anyone here wants to hear that noise is on a video game, we’re letting you keep it.”