LANGLEY • NORFOLK, VIRGINIA
It seemed like much earlier than seven when he woke the following morning, his eyelids tight against the light slanting through half-closed curtains. Despite the early hour, Katie was already up and moving about, a dizzy smile spread across her face. Both were pleasantly exhausted after having made furious love deep into the night and early-morning hours.
Ryan went about his normal routine in preparation for the day ahead. Every few minutes he would catch Katie staring at the diamond on her left hand and she would look up with a sheepish expression on her face. He knew how she was feeling, though, as it was his first time being engaged as well. It was an unusual confluence of emotions: pride, that he was good enough for a woman like this; anxiety, because he could still screw it all up; anticipation, thinking about the family that they would make together. Most of all, he just felt fortunate, recognizing how lucky he was to have her in his life.
By eight they were both ready to leave. He checked out of the hotel while Katie had the valet bring the car around. She drove south toward Langley because Ryan wanted her to take the BMW back to Maine, but she wasn’t experienced driving a stick shift and needed the practice. They both burst into laughter when the car stalled at numerous stoplights and the vehicles behind erupted into a cacophony of horns and loud curses. For some reason, none of that seemed to matter.
It was almost an hour later when they arrived at headquarters deep in the wooded hills of Virginia. Harper had clearly made arrangements, as the security guards manning the gate waved them through following only a cursory inspection. The heavy sedan slowed to a halt outside the entrance.
“I hate this.”
“I know.” He gently touched her cheek. “I’ll miss you.”
“Me, too,” she said. Her long fingers came up to wrap around his.
Ryan leaned in for a quick kiss, but it went on for several minutes until he reluctantly pulled away.
“John’s probably pissed already, I’m really late. I’ll see you in a week or two—I’ll let you know. I’ll call you, okay?”
“You’d better,” was her quiet response. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He looked into her eyes for as long as he could until he bumped into someone and was forced to turn around as he went up the steps toward the main entrance. At the doors, he turned once again and laughed when the BMW pulled jerkily away from the curb. Clearly, she was having trouble adjusting to a third pedal.
Ryan had always been intimidated by the immense hall that marked the entrance to CIA headquarters in Langley. The space was dominated by the Memorial Wall dedicated to those field officers who had died in the line of duty. Due to the clandestine nature of the Agency, the names were not listed; instead, a star was attributed to each fallen agent.
Ryan occasionally wondered if a star was waiting for him. It was not for want of recognition, because he knew about the wall. He also knew about his profession, and was realistic when handing out odds, even for himself.
In the hunt for Jason March, he didn’t care to hand out odds of any kind.
Leaving the elevator, he walked toward Harper’s office and was admitted on arrival. He was surprised to see that Naomi was already there, waiting with the deputy director. She was immaculately turned out in a white suit jacket with a matching skirt that ended at mid thigh. He was struck by her appearance until he thought of Katie and felt a small twinge of guilt.
“Good morning, Ryan,” Harper said. When he looked up, a strange little grin appeared on his face. “You’re right on time, believe it or not; I was just about to tell Naomi what’s happening. I’ve got you two booked on a 1:30 flight to Norfolk. The tickets are waiting at the airport, and I’ve made some arrangements for transportation when you get there.”
“Sounds good. Who are we meeting?”
“Adam North is your liaison on the ground. He’s DEA—the same guy who hooked onto this piece of information in the first place.
They want to be kept up-to-date on this, probably so they can claim partial credit when you run March down.”
“If, John. If I run him down.”
The DDO gave a little smile. “I have a lot of faith in you, Ryan. In both of you,” he said, turning to look at Naomi. “Anyway, you’d better get moving, especially if you plan to check your weapon. That plane is leaving with or without you. Good luck, and keep me updated.”
Harper shook hands with them both. On their way out the door, Jonathan pulled Kealey back gently, whispering quiet words into his ear. “I want you to watch yourself with Elgin. I saw that thing in your face yesterday when I mentioned the rape part—The president is willing to break some rules, but there’s a limit to what he can overlook. You’re no good to me on suspension or in jail, Ryan. Just be careful, okay?”
Ryan nodded and they were out the door. He didn’t see the look that Naomi gave him. It was partially bemusement, but also understanding. She couldn’t help but revel in the knowledge that she wasn’t supposed to have. Lost in self-congratulation, she didn’t quite catch his question.
“Sorry, what was that?” she asked.
“Your arm. How is it?”
“Oh, it’s fine, thanks. By the way, that’s a nice shade you’re wearing,” she said with a smile.
It took him a second to catch on, but when he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, it came away smeared with Katie’s pink lip gloss. So that’s what Harper was grinning about, he thought with a rueful shake of his head.
They didn’t speak again until they got to the airport, but Ryan noticed that the little smirk never quite left Naomi’s face.
Less than three hours later they were on the ground at Norfolk International. Ryan had checked weapons on domestic and international flights many times before and knew how to fill out the paperwork, so there was not a substantial delay in retrieving his gun case.
Soon they were moving through the automatic doors of the passenger terminal, stepping out into the cool autumn air. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number. “Yeah, this is Kealey.
We’re at the entrance for United. Okay, we’ll be waiting.”
“When was the last time you fired one of these?” he asked Naomi after turning off the phone. He tapped the small metal case with his left hand.
“I have no idea. It’s been a long time, though.”
“I’ll ask North to get you something.”
She was about to decline the offer, but then she remembered General Hale’s parting words: Whatever happens, don’t let March get his hands on you. Believe me, that’s the last thing you want. The memory sent another cold shiver running through her body.
It wasn’t long before a large black Suburban with government tags pulled up to the curb and the driver jumped out. “Hey, Adam North, DEA.”
“Ryan Kealey, and this is Naomi Kharmai. Good to meet you.”
North didn’t look like any law-enforcement agent Naomi had ever seen. He was huge; she guessed that he was well over 6' 4" and probably topped the scales at 270 pounds. He wore a black-leather jacket over a plain gray T-shirt and threadbare jeans. Her eyes moved down and noticed that his shoes were dirty Nike cross-trainers, scuffed and worn with age. The DEA agent caught her disapproval and grinned through a thick, unkempt beard.
“Don’t look so disappointed,” he said. “I’ve been trying to put these assholes away for three months, and it’s a little hard to blend in with a suit and tie.”
Ryan laughed as he tossed his little grip and Naomi’s huge suitcase into the back of the truck. He sat in the front with North while Kharmai climbed into the rear seat.
“So,” North said as he pulled away from the curb and into traffic,
“where to begin?”
“First off, I want your opinion. What was it between Shakib and this Elgin guy? Was he moving in the explosives?”
“No, I don’t think so,” was the unexpected response. “Elgin’s responsibilities all lie on this side of the ocean, and I highly doubt he has any real connections to speak of. Part of his job is to check the bill of lading against the actual containers on the ship. I think what happened is that he came across something he wasn’t supposed to see, and he tried to make that work to his advantage. I would have to say he was successful, seeing as how he’s still alive.”
“Did you talk to the port authorities?” Naomi asked.
“I did, but only to get a grip on the loading and unloading procedures. If Elgin was trying to extort money from Shakib, then the people running the terminal aren’t going to have any knowledge of that anyway. Besides, I wanted to keep this information close to the vest.
If Elgin gets word that people are asking questions, he’ll find a way to disappear. He’s not very bright, but he’s smart enough to know when to cut and run.”
“Tell me about Elgin’s job,” Ryan said. “What are his responsibilities? If he found something, how could that have happened?”
“Okay, when a ship comes into port, it’s issued a job number, a booking number, and the port of discharge. Elgin is responsible for assigning the job number, which in turn places the ship in a pre-assembly area. Basically, that determines when the cargo will be unloaded. Then a dock receipt is issued against the cargo, and responsibility of the load is transferred from the ship’s captain to the marine terminal.
“While the ship is waiting to be unloaded, the bill of lading is checked against the actual cargo. That’s our guy’s primary job, to supervise the walkthrough of the cargo hold. Right now, there are still no effective measures in place to check each container. It’s a huge problem for U.S. Customs because there is no way to verify the contents. Closed containers, which is basically every container aboard, are listed as S.T.C. That stands for ‘Said To Contain.’ The entire shipping industry is essentially run on the honor system. I mean, some of these ships can carry 7,000 twenty-foot containers. The amount of manpower that would be needed to check each one is completely unfeasible. It just can’t be done.”
“Then how would he run across illegal cargo?” Ryan asked.
Naomi spoke up from the rear seat. “If the container was damaged, then they would have the authority to open it and examine the contents, right?”
“Exactly.” North looked back at her with a surprised expression.
He was genuinely impressed. “It took me forever to figure that out, but you’re right; that is the only way it could have happened. Indirectly, it was a huge break for us.”
“So from there, it was just a matter of locating the receiving party, which in this case was Michael Shakib. Well, this is just great,” Ryan said. A look of disgust came across his face. “This guy doesn’t have anything to tell us. All he did was blackmail Shakib.”
“That’s not entirely accurate,” North said. “Elgin can give you the ship’s point of origin, as well as the person or company that consigned the container in the first place. I would say he has a lot to tell us.”
“Well, let’s find out. What do you call this place?”
“It’s called The Waterfront. I guess the owner doesn’t have a lot of imagination.” He turned to Ryan with a look of incredulity on his face. “You’re not thinking of going in now, are you?”
“Why not?”
“Well, the SAC at the Norfolk office is expecting you, first of all, and the deputy administrator came down from Washington to help supervise this little powwow. If you don’t show up, that’s going to be a problem. Second, I think we ought to decide how to deal with Elgin. I mean, he’s not going to just hand over this information. He probably made a lot of money dealing with Shakib, so he won’t be very forthcoming.”
Kealey frowned. “Listen, I’ve heard about Elgin, and I can’t say that I’m very impressed. I’m under orders to move quickly on this, orders that came down from the president. I’m pretty sure that super-cedes the authority of the deputy administrator for DEA. The only problem I see is that you can’t be involved in this if you’re part of an ongoing investigation.”
“Actually, that’s not going to be an issue.” A huge grin spread across North’s face. “My boss got a personal call from the national security advisor. All domestic operations take a backseat to your little mission. She even threw out your name. I guess you must carry a fair amount of pull.”
Ryan didn’t answer. He opened the metal case to reveal the components of his personal firearm, a Beretta 92FS. It was broken down into four pieces: the receiver, slide assembly, bolt group, and recoil spring. His hands moved in a blur as the weapon came together, the magazine checked and inserted, and a round chambered. The safety was on as he placed the pistol at his side and slid the metal case under the seat.
“That looks like military issue,” North said. “Got some years on it, too.”
“It’s served me well,” was the response. Ryan wasn’t giving anything away.
Adam North smiled at that as he took the next exit leading down to the docks. He glanced back at Naomi. “Are you coming in?”
“Well, I wouldn’t be very helpful sitting here, would I?”
“I’m just saying . . .” The DEA agent flushed slightly as he turned to look at her again. “This is not exactly a friendly place, and what you’re wearing isn’t going to make this any easier.”
Naomi followed his gaze to the white skirt riding high on her thighs. She tugged it down self-consciously as Ryan choked back laughter.
“Then we’d better stop so I can change,” she said, struggling to keep the anger out of her voice.
North pulled the Suburban into a gas station. Naomi jumped out and opened her suitcase at the rear of the vehicle, pulling out several items before storming off toward the ladies’ room.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ryan said as they both laughed. “She doesn’t like me either.”
“Pretty cute, though,” North said. Kealey was surprised; Kharmai didn’t seem like the bigger man’s type. “British?”
Ryan shot him a look. “That obvious, huh?”
“Well, you know.” North looked embarrassed. “I don’t deal with that a lot. Uh, why isn’t she working with . . . What do you call them?
You know, the guys on her side of the water . . . ?”
“MI-6, you mean? I don’t know. It’s their loss, I suppose.” It was a good question, one that he hadn’t thought to ask her, but Ryan wanted to get back on track. “Anyway, tell me about this place. What kind of layout are we looking at here?”
North quickly turned back to business as he hunted for a piece of paper and a pencil. He drew a diagram on the center console as he spoke. “Okay, it’s pretty straightforward. There’s only one front entrance, but the interior is surprisingly large. As soon as you go in you have a seating area on the right, four pool tables on the left. Past that is the bar, facing the door. I know for a fact that the owner keeps a sawed-off shotgun under the counter, double-barreled.” Ryan didn’t like that piece of information, and the DEA agent registered his concern. “I know, I know. I’ll watch that. There’s no need for you to announce yourself. I’ll go in loud and let them know who I am. Since they’ve seen me before, they’ll be less likely to come up firing.”
“What are you carrying?”
North pulled a long case out from behind his seat and opened it halfway.
“Jesus, what the hell is that thing?”
“It’s an M4 Super 90. Benelli only makes them available to law enforcement. Pretty imposing, huh? The telescopic stock helps to compensate for the size, and it fires on semiautomatic. The draw-back is that it only holds five rounds, but I’m loading slugs. If I have to pull the trigger, nobody’s going to lift a finger afterward. I tried to get my boss to spring for a custom version chambered for seven, but the number crunchers over at Justice didn’t like the cost.”
“I think what you have will do the job. Naomi needs something.
Do you have a backup piece?”
North looked concerned. “Yeah, but that’s it. Without it, you can only count on me for five rounds.”
“Believe me,” Ryan replied, “if you need more than that, we’re already in trouble.”
Naomi emerged from the restroom, the anger gone from her face.
Kealey was relieved; she was going to need her mind clear in a few minutes. She had changed into a tight T-shirt and a pair of low-slung jeans. The new outfit was more practical, but did nothing less to show off her admirable figure. As she got back into the truck, North went on with his explanation.
“So that’s the only front entrance. You see what I’m talking about, Kharmai? Okay, good. Now, the bathroom is over here adjacent to the bar, so you can keep an eye on both at the same time. The door to the stockroom is shielded from view, but you should have time to react if anyone comes out. There are no windows in the bathroom, so you don’t have to worry about our guy getting out that way.
“Here’s what I’m thinking: I’ll go in first unarmed to make sure that Elgin is there. If he is, and he should be, then I’ll come out to collect my weapon. Naomi, I already explained to Ryan that I’m going in loud. You don’t need to say anything. You head to the front and keep an eye on this blind spot.” He pointed to the diagram and she nodded her head in understanding. The DEA agent turned to Ryan.
“You want to get him out of there quick. Like I said, this is not a friendly place. I’ve spent a lot of time in there recently, and even I can’t always tell who’s carrying. You should make it clear that we are only there for Elgin. Otherwise you’ll get some asshole with a warrant out in Idaho pulling down on you from behind.” He searched their faces. “Are you sure you want to go ahead with this?”
“Definitely. The longer we wait, the greater the chance that he catches on and we lose him. It’s now or never,” was Kealey’s decisive response. Naomi looked a little less eager.
North grinned. “My kind of man. Let’s go.”
He put the heavy truck into gear and they drove on down to the docks. North dug out his backup piece and handed it to Ryan, who in turn checked the chamber and passed it to Naomi, butt first.
“This is a Glock 29. You have nine rounds plus one in the chamber, okay? It doesn’t have an external safety. All you have to do is squeeze the trigger.” Turning to North: “That’s your backup?” He made a show of looking around the interior of the truck. “This thing is like a mobile armory. Where do you keep the grenade launchers?”
That earned him a brief laugh. It was Ryan’s way, and had been ever since he was a young platoon leader, to try to ease the tension before heading into harm’s way. A certain amount of stress and fear was useful, because it kept you sharp. Too much, though, could cause even the most experienced people to freeze up at the worst possible time. Looking back, he could see the tension in Naomi’s face, and hoped that she would keep it together long enough to do what was needed.
“That’s it,” North remarked. They were rolling slowly past a low, cinder block building. The exterior hadn’t seen new paint in many years, the white coating cracked and missing entirely in some sec-tions. Blocklike letters in black paint spelled out THE WATERFRONT
across the uppermost part of the building’s face. The windows were streaked with dirt and covered with rusting steel mesh.
There were only three other cars in the litter-strewn parking lot as North pulled in on the second pass.
“Do me a favor, Kealey. Pull out that shotgun while I check it out.
I’ll be back in a sec.” North hopped out and ambled toward the entrance. Ryan reached behind the seat and pulled out the soft case.
Keeping it below the passenger window, he opened it and withdrew the Benelli. It was 3 1⁄2 feet in length, the barrel alone accounting for almost 19 inches. Looking back, he noticed that Naomi’s eyes were wide at the sight of the weapon.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he checked the breech to verify that it was fully loaded. He turned awkwardly in his seat to face her, but her eyes were darting away. “Naomi, look at me.”
She finally met his gaze. When she reached up to brush her hair back from her face, Kealey saw that her hand was shaking. “You’re going to be fine,” he said. “I need you to be focused in there. Just watch the bathroom door and my back, don’t worry about Elgin. I know what I’m doing, okay? You have to trust me.”
“Hey,” she said, her eyes suddenly flaring. “I’m not scared, Ryan, and I don’t need your help. I can bloody well take care of myself.”
Kealey lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything in response.
North came out of the bar moving slowly at first, then faster as he approached the vehicle. Ryan pushed the door open.
“We’re good to go. He’s sitting at the bar, blue jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt. You’ve seen a picture?” They both nodded in the affirmative. “Okay, let’s move.”
Kealey handed him the Benelli, and North checked the breech instinctively. That small gesture gave Ryan added confidence in the ability of the young DEA agent as they moved quickly forward, Ryan’s Beretta low by his side as he trailed behind the bigger man.
They were inside.
North moved to the left as soon as he cleared the doorway to make room for the two CIA officers following a half step behind. His shotgun was up, traversing the room and he was shouting: “DEA!
Get on the ground! I said, GET ON THE GROUND!”
Most of the people in the room froze at the sight of the big agent and the semiautomatic shotgun that he held. Then they were falling to the floor as Ryan came up low between the tables. The bartender’s hands dropped under the counter as he watched the approaching agents.
“Don’t do it!” Ryan shouted. “This is not about you! Get your hands in the open!”
He could see the hesitation in the old man’s grizzled face as he reached the bar. Naomi was facing away from Elgin as she approached, her attention entirely focused on the bathroom . . . And then Elgin was up and moving fast, but Ryan couldn’t take his aim away from the bartender. Elgin with a knife out, turning Naomi around and the knife tight against her throat, her body between the two men.
Elgin whispering into her ear, the eyes cold and empty.
Naomi, the Glock loose by her side, her eyes wide and locked onto Ryan’s.
No time to decide as the bartender brought the 12 gauge up and Ryan dropped to the ground, the Beretta swinging left across his body as he fired. The bullet plowed a shallow furrow across Naomi’s thigh before it ripped into Elgin’s left kneecap. Over his head, the shotguns booming in unison, glass shattering into thousands of pieces behind the bar. Elgin screamed in agony as the knife moved away from Naomi’s throat and she turned, dragging him down by the hair, the muzzle of the Glock pressed against his head.
Then they were both on the ground, Naomi turning him so he lay facedown as she straddled him from behind and kept the pistol jammed into the base of his neck. The bar erupted as the small group of people rushed for the front door. Ryan stood up to look over the counter and could see the bartender on the ground, a half-inch hole in his chest, the body surrounded by thousands of shards of bloody glass. Turning, he was relieved to see that North wasn’t hit, the shotgun dangling in his right hand as he walked up.
“He got a round off?”
“Into the counter, I think. He didn’t get it up all the way,” North replied. Ryan turned his attention to Naomi. The pistol hadn’t moved from Elgin’s head. Her eyes were glazed over, her face pale.
“Naomi, it’s over,” he said in a soft voice as he gently pulled the pistol from her outstretched hand. Her leg was bleeding badly, but she didn’t seem to notice the pain.
“Get some pressure on that, North. I think she’s in shock. I need to talk to this bastard.” Ryan grabbed Elgin’s shirt collar and dragged the injured man toward the stockroom, ignoring the screams of pain as he pulled him over the floor littered with broken glass.
The rear of the building was a large, dark room stacked floor to ceiling with crates. Ryan propped Elgin up against the cool stone wall next to the door and searched him quickly but thoroughly. Satisfied that he had no other weapons, Ryan moved back into the bar and picked up the man’s knife.
“What the hell are you doing?” North demanded. He had located a first aid kit and was working on Naomi’s leg.
North’s eyes moved up from the weapon in the other man’s hand to Ryan’s face. The young DEA agent, several inches taller and 90
pounds heavier, abruptly shut his mouth and looked away. Ryan walked back toward the stockroom, his knuckles white around the rubber grip of the knife.
Thomas Elgin was leaning against the wall just as Ryan had left him, his breath coming in short, fast spurts. He looked up as Kealey entered the room, eyes defiant as he clutched his ruined leg.
“Fuck you want, asshole?” he snarled.
Without saying a word, Ryan crouched and pushed the first inch-and-a-half of the knife into Elgin’s chest. He was rewarded by a shriek of agony as he twisted the handle to make the wound more difficult to close and to encourage blood flow. Ryan was well aware that he didn’t have a lot of time, and guessed that Elgin would be more motivated to talk if the hole in his chest was leaking at a steady rate.
In a low, menacing voice, he said, “I need some fast answers from you.”
“What do you want, you sick fuck! ” Elgin screamed, twisting his body, desperately trying to get away from the knife. Kealey obliged and pulled it out of his chest. The injured man’s words didn’t seem to have any effect on him, though. This time, the serrated edge scraped across the protruding bone of Elgin’s mangled kneecap.
In the other room, Special Agent Adam North of the DEA shuddered as another unearthly scream echoed throughout the building.
The howl of pain almost managed to drown out the sound of the approaching sirens as North finished applying the improvised pressure bandage to Kharmai’s thigh. She was starting to come around now, a spark visible in her large green eyes as her mouth moved in an attempt to speak.
“Take it easy,” he said. “You’re okay now. You did a great job.” It was a sincere compliment. For an intelligence analyst to be thrown into this kind of situation and react the way she did was an amazing thing. The sirens grew louder and the door burst open, paramedics swarming into the building. They were followed closely by officers from the Norfolk and Portsmouth police departments and a number of Virginia state troopers. As soon as they came through the front door, Ryan emerged from the stockroom, his face an impassive mask.
As the police officers secured the building, several returned from the back room with pale faces and immediately looked in Kealey’s direction. Confusion seemed to rule the day, but it wasn’t long before a consensus was reached, and a nervous officer put handcuffs on Ryan Kealey at the behest of the person now in charge, Captain Gina Nolan of the Norfolk Police Department.