The Janus Reprisal (13 page)

S
TUPID ME, SMITH THOUGHT,
and sighed. He placed his free hand on the windowsill and leaned out. The fire escape was empty, the bottom rungs still retracted. She must have jumped from there to the ground. He looked around the area but could see no sign of her. He closed the window, locked it, returned to the kitchen, and pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket. He dialed Marty, who picked up on the second ring.

“Jon, I’m surprised to hear from you. Did you find her?”

“I did. And just lost her again.”

Marty snorted. “I’m watching breaking news about the gunman in the Landon Investments building in New York. So the dead woman wasn’t her.”

“It was her receptionist. I brought her to a safe house, but she gave me the slip. Ms. Nolan is not as cooperative as I expected.”

“I told you she looked angry. Angry people never do what you want.”

Smith paused. Marty’s comment was astute, but once again he didn’t think “angry” was the right word to apply to Nolan. “I know she’s got a telephone on her, as well as a tablet computer. Can you track her through either?”

“What type of software on her phone?”

“No idea.”

“Number?”

“Nope.”

Marty gave a gusty sigh. “You’re not giving me much to go on here.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“I’m going to have to hack the major carriers, find her number, and then see if I can track her. Some systems have built-in GPS, which will pinpoint her exact location, but others only triangulate her signal from a nearby tower. In the last case I’ll only be able to get you a radius. You’ll have to canvass for her. How did she get away? Are you losing your touch?”

Marty’s comment served to raise Smith’s annoyance with himself. Marty was right; he should have predicted that she’d run, but the reality was that he couldn’t have held her in the safe house against her will in any event. “I made the mistake of assuming that as a civilian she’d be a whole lot more cooperative than she was. In fact, she’s not behaving like a civilian at all.” She’s behaving like someone with something to hide, Smith thought.

“What’s she like?”

“Serious, smart, and obsessed with her job. She reacted to the news that an assassin was after her with a lot less emotion than I expected.”

“She sounds like me,” Marty said. Smith raised an eyebrow. Once again, Marty was close to the truth. Smith wouldn’t be surprised if he was told that Nolan was somewhere on the spectrum for Asperger’s. Marty continued, “What are you going to do while I track her,
again
?” Marty seemed to be enjoying himself at Smith’s expense.

“I’m going to her home. As an amateur that’s probably the first place she’ll head.”

“You just told me she’s not acting like a civilian. Why are you treating her like one?” That brought Smith up short. There came a beep on his phone.

“I’ve got a call coming through. Let me know the minute you find anything.” Smith hung up and switched over.

“It’s Randi. I’m coming in the front door so don’t blow my head off.” Smith still had his gun in his hand. He shoved it back in the holster. He heard the door open and after a moment Russell stepped into the kitchen. She wore dark jeans topped by a loose-fitting cotton T-shirt and a short blue blazer. On her feet were black sneakers with white rubber soles.

“I lost Nolan,” he said.

“What? How?” Russell looked shocked. Smith told her the whole sordid story, finishing with the information that he had Marty tracking her cell. Russell looked down at Nolan’s sandwich, still sitting on the table. Smith followed her gaze.

“Do you want it? She didn’t touch it.”

Russell nodded. “I’m starving.” She pulled up a chair and uncapped the tea. Smith thought she looked pale and wan.

“Are you sick?” he said.

She nodded. “Picked up a bit of a virus, which is not surprising. We’ve been working around the clock in the hunt for Dattar.”

“Not from the swab, I hope,” Smith said.

She took a bite of the sandwich. “I wondered about that, too. I actually called Ohnara back and asked him, but he said cholera wouldn’t present with my symptoms or as a mild illness. If I had it, I would know it.”

“Well, that’s certainly true. I’ve seen it in action in Third World countries. It’s awful,” Smith said.

“What the hell does Nolan have to hide?” Russell said. “And I agree with you, she’s headed home.”

“Then let’s go. We’re only a few minutes behind.”

Russell pointed at his sandwich. “You haven’t finished. Don’t worry. I’ve got an officer stationed at her place. She shows up, he’ll lock her down for us. And I need to talk to you about something else.” Smith took a deep breath in relief. He should have known that Russell would have all angles covered. He sat at the table, but he found he was too keyed up to eat.

“Ohnara says the cholera sample is mutant, but he doesn’t think it poses a risk—at least not in this country. He ran it through our standard water treatment process and it died. In fact, he said it died so swiftly that he thinks the mutation weakened it somehow.”

Smith pondered that for a moment. “If that’s true, then he should start an experiment to introduce the mutation to the general cholera population. With a little tweaking, he could weaken the disease.”

Russell shook her head. “Don’t forget, without treatment it multiplied at an astonishing rate. It could just render the disease more virulent.”

“Well, that’s why you tweak it. Boost what you need and leave the rest,” Smith said.

Russell finished the sandwich and pushed the plate away. “My real concern is Dattar. We’re getting rumors that a full-scale attack on a major city in America is being planned. We can’t be sure Dattar is the mastermind, but I don’t like that he’s escaped.”

Smith stood. “We need to get our hands on Nolan again. She knows something, I’m almost sure of it. I asked her about Dattar and she shut down tight. Claimed client confidentiality. If he weren’t a client, she would have had no obligation toward him and could have just said no. The fact that she pulled the confidentiality card tells me that he was.” Smith heard the muffled sound of footsteps on the stairs. “Are we expecting someone?” he whispered. Russell shook her head and pulled a gun out of a shoulder holster under the blazer. The steps grew nearer, moving quietly. Smith pulled his own weapon out and pressed himself against the wall on the side of the entrance to the hall. Russell took up a position behind his left shoulder. The footfalls stopped on the landing and a key slid into the lock. The door opened, and a tall man with slicked hair and wearing a suit came into view. Smith put the muzzle of his gun against the side of the man’s head. He stilled.

“Colonel Smith?” he said.

Russell lowered her weapon and moved into view. “It’s all right,” she said to Smith, “he’s CIA.” Smith lowered his weapon. “You almost got your head blown off,” she said to the man. He turned to face her with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, Russell. I should have told you I was on my way.”

Russell holstered her weapon. “Jon Smith, meet Steve Harcourt. CIA’s head of the Mideast Division, currently on loan to the NYPD.”

Smith nodded a greeting. The man’s slick demeanor and expensive tailored suit spoke volumes about his position at the agency. Smith noted a small bump near the suit’s arm where he presumed Harcourt’s own weapon was holstered. He imagined the residents of New York’s Upper West Side would be surprised at how many people were walking around their neighborhood while carrying concealed. A buzzing noise made Russell jump. She pulled out a BlackBerry and read the screen.

“Jordan says that Nolan hasn’t returned to her house.”

“I thought she was here,” Harcourt said. Smith was prepared to once again tell of his blunder when Russell interrupted.

“She skipped. There’s a request out to track her by cell phone transmission. I stationed Jordan at her house early this morning just as a precaution.”

Harcourt rubbed his chin. “Is that really a good use of an officer? We haven’t any information that links her to anything that we’re investigating now.”

“We have the photos in the terrorist’s pocket that I told you about,” Russell said.

“I think she’s tied to Dattar in some way that may be significant,” Smith said. Harcourt leveled a glance at Smith.

“I understand that you’re a member of the military branch for infectious diseases? I appreciate your input, and I am glad to see you survived the attack at the Grand Royal, but tracking Dattar is the CIA’s job.” Smith felt his irritation grow. Harcourt’s attitude was that of a pure bureaucrat and his defensive posture was him marking his territory. Smith doubted that the man had actually worked in the field for years.

“It’s my job to protect myself. Someone’s been targeting me and Ms. Nolan and I intend to discover who.”

“It appears as though Ms. Nolan doesn’t want your help. Otherwise I imagine she’d still be here,” Harcourt said. Smith took a breath to respond, but Russell stepped between him and Harcourt.

“Let’s focus on the facts, shall we?” Russell said. “There’s an attack on the Grand Royal the same night that infectious disease specialists are convened there and that Dattar escapes from prison. Photos of Ms. Nolan, Smith, and a former agent from MI6 named Howell are found in one of the attacker’s pockets. Ms. Nolan is a money manager who may have done business with Dattar, and her receptionist is gunned down not twenty-four hours after the escape. Currently we have little information on Dattar’s whereabouts, and we should be interviewing anyone with any information about him. If that’s Nolan, then she needs to be found and questioned.”

“By the CIA,” Harcourt said. “Not by anyone else.” He shot a warning look at Smith.

Jerk
, Smith thought.

“Which requires an officer at her home.”

“I still think it’s a waste of resources. But if you think it’s necessary…” Harcourt shrugged.

“I do,” Russell said. Her phone buzzed again. She punched the speaker button.

“Ms. Russell? It’s Jana Wendel. Jordan’s been shot.”

K
HALIL WALKED CALMLY AWAY
from his position opposite Nolan’s house and passed the car with its shattered windshield and occupant slumped over the wheel. He knew that the agent had survived long enough to call for help, for he’d seen him lift the cell phone to his ear and speak before falling unconscious. Khalil didn’t care. The agent should have been quicker, faster. He’d aimed at Khalil, which had forced Khalil to crouch before shooting; as a result, the shot was not a kill shot. Khalil was pushing thirty-five and should have slower reflexes than the young agent. That he didn’t revealed the CIA’s weakness.

Khalil was only angry that Nolan hadn’t appeared at the house. Shooting the agent was small recompense, but it was clear that the agent had noticed Khalil hanging about Nolan’s block. Khalil stayed a few minutes more after the shooting to see if Nolan would appear, but that was a risk because he could hear ambulance sirens in the distance. He turned a corner, entered the park, and began to jog. Here his running wouldn’t raise a question. Dozens of people ran around him, all getting their afternoon workout. When he was far enough away, he
dialed
a number on his phone.

“Did you get her?” Dattar said.

“She hasn’t appeared at her home. But a CIA agent did. At no time did you tell me that the CIA was involved regarding her.”

“I didn’t know they were! If anything, that was your mistake. You shouldn’t have killed the receptionist.”

Khalil stopped walking. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the receptionist at N
— the target’s
office. She was shot in the temple. Your signature style.”

“But not by me. Have you paid another to acquire this target?”

“No. And I won’t. But that was a foolish move because the police are now swarming the office. If you intend to take her there, you won’t be able to without being captured.”

“That’s of no importance to me. I never intended to take her there. It’s too visible. Whoever you paid in addition to me is screwing up, and I’d suggest you request your money back. That’s assuming you paid him at all.” Khalil’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“I paid no one else. I expect you to get to her. If not, then no money. You understand?” Dattar hung up.

Khalil stared at the phone still in his hand and told himself to stay calm, to breathe deeply. He would eliminate all rivals and acquire Nolan himself. He sat on a nearby bench and called his second, Manhar.

“Did you find him?”

“He’s in an SRO hotel in Harlem.”

Khalil smiled. “Excellent. Are you sure it’s him?”

“I am. Older Englishman. Soft. He’s going to be easy to kill. Do you want him shot?”

“Yes, but make it look like something else.”

“I’ll arrange it.”

“Mm. Good. I’m going for Nolan and Smith.”

“I heard a rumor about Smith.” Manhar hesitated.

“And?”

“He’s slippery.”

Khalil snorted. “He’s American. None are that smart.”

“I’ve heard he’s treacherous. He forced Dattar to allow vaccination in his village. Hundreds of children. Mine included.”

“Do they live?”

“Yes. When diphtheria raced through the next village, none in ours got it, but Dattar should have stopped it. The village elders are saying the UN brought the disease and infected the neighboring village deliberately to make it look as though their medicine worked. Who knows what the UN really injected them with? Dattar is weak.”

Khalil was up and walking again. “Dattar is irrelevant, but his vast utility holdings are not. I want a piece of them. Besides, he’s planning retaliation. Don’t worry. Soon disease will spread. None will be spared. Just focus on the Englishman.” He pocketed the phone and headed back to the East Side.

Dattar dialed the number he needed. When the man answered, Dattar plunged right in, not bothering to identify himself. “Did you eliminate Smith?”

“Not yet. Things were more complicated than I thought. But I know where he is, so it’s just a matter of waiting until he’s alone.”

“Did you shoot the receptionist? That was stupid.”

“You let me decide what’s stupid or not. Smith’s been cooperating with the CIA and is currently under CIA protection. In a safe house, and I can’t possibly kill him there, so I had a better idea. The police have been given a videotape of Smith entering the office. In less than three hours every cop in New York will be hunting him.”

“How is that better than just putting a bullet in his head?”

“The CIA won’t want to be seen as harboring a killer. Questions will arise as to his role in the Grand Royal attack. Suddenly he’ll go from a celebrated survivor to a possible co-conspirator. The CIA will want to wash their hands of him. Then I’ll shoot him and no one will care. Just another killer eliminated.”

Dattar smiled. “Excellent.”

“When are you going to pay me?”

Dattar’s smile fled. “I’m putting some time between my escape and accessing my accounts. This is better for both of us. You don’t want to be seen accepting my money directly after, either, do you?” Dattar gritted his teeth while waiting for the response.

“Fine, but make it soon. I don’t do this for free and my creditors are hounding me more and more each day.”

Dattar relaxed. “I will.” He hung up and exploded. “When I get my hands on that woman, I’m going to string her up and flay her alive. She’ll beg for death.”

Rajiid turned from his computer monitor. “But they continue to proceed despite the lack of payment?”

Dattar nodded. He moved over to the coffeepot and began to pour himself a cup. The ship rolled and Dattar stumbled back, spilling the coffee. “When do we dock at Cyprus? I can’t stand this vile freighter.”

“Another day at least. We’re working around the storm off the Italian coast.” The ship rolled again, but this time Dattar was able to correct for it. The coffee stayed in his cup.

“Tell me about the coolers. When will we be able to spread the disease?”

Rajiid shook his head. “I’ve received no news on the test. When I do, we’ll move quickly. I’m also considering adding a preschool to the target. No one will question an outbreak under such conditions.”

Dattar gazed at Rajiid’s placid demeanor. The man lacked any semblance of a soul, that was certain, but Dattar wouldn’t be concerned about the children of others, either. Better they not grow into enemies.

“You placed the weapon?”

Rajiid nodded. “In the engine room.”

Dattar sipped his coffee and continued to sway with the ship’s motion.