Missing Persons, page 14
Taras had a reputation as a man without conscience. He was rumored to have undertaken some of the most difficult interrogations during the Ukrainian uprising. He had a narrow face that almost seemed too small for his muscular body, and his eyes were set close, which Andreyev had always thought signaled a lack of intelligence, but this man was sharp and possessed of a rough street cunning that made him very insightful and dangerous. As an enemy, Taras would be formidable, but he was fiercely loyal to Russia and served Andreyev with devotion.
Taras had discovered the signal transmitter concealed in the billfold the Americans had left at Andreyev’s apartment building. It was an effective if unsophisticated ruse, although he was surprised they had been able to discover the location. It suggested they had advanced surveillance techniques he was not yet aware of. If his phones were compromised… he would ask Taras to conduct a full sweep to be sure.
Taras had traced the signal from the billfold to its receiver, turning Private’s tricks against them. There was now no doubt these people knew Andreyev wasn’t really Elizabeth Singer’s father, which meant subterfuge and deception with them would no longer be useful. Hostilities were inevitable.
“Do not overestimate their competence,” Taras replied with a smile. “The billfold tracker is available from any gadget store. A child could have used it.”
“American law enforcement has never troubled us,” Andreyev countered.
“True, but that is no measure of competence,” Taras sneered. “What should we do about them?”
Andreyev had been alarmed to hear the woman babbling that Morgan and Floyd were dead. That was a major setback. He would have to verify the report with Kolokov, who was leading the Afghan mission, but he very much doubted Private would be giving false information. There was little to no chance they knew they were being watched. The death of Morgan was of no concern; Floyd’s death, however, was more of a problem.
“We need to find the wife,” Andreyev replied. Elizabeth Singer would know the location of the Bull, and her children would be all the leverage needed to make her talk. “Put a team on these people,” he said, nodding at the figures on the infrared display.
They were gathered around the grieving woman, and he felt sorry for her in the way one might pity a cat pining for a mate that had been hit by a car. Sad, but ultimately the fault of the animal for playing on the road. “One of them will lead us to the target,” Andreyev said.
Taras nodded, and Andreyev stepped away from the edge of the roof, heading for the stairwell. A hot bath then perhaps a cognac before lunch would warm him up after exposure to the elements, he thought. He hurried inside, eager to get to his chauffeur-driven Bentley Mulsanne, which waited on the street a couple blocks away.
CHAPTER 54
NIKITA KOLOKOV WAS furious. He’d spent days tracking the American pilot across Nuristan. Despite the mistakes of others, he’d executed the mission to near perfection. The first error had been the trigger-happy operator who was supposed to disable the Osprey once it was on the ground and the American troops had deployed. Instead, he had opened fire on the aircraft as it had been coming in to land. Thankfully, Floyd had not been one of those to die on impact, but the rocket had made their job much harder. The Americans had been ready for a fight, rather than running into the ambush Kolokov had planned. He had lost five men to the Americans, but they had been in a strategically inferior situation and their defeat had been inevitable. Kolokov could have engaged them far more effectively if he hadn’t been under strict orders to capture Floyd alive. So five comrades died—six if he included the trigger-happy operator, who was quietly executed for his failure.
Now, after everything he’d done to successfully entrap Floyd, another trigger-happy maniac had blown up their target, along with half a mountain.
The loss of their target wasn’t Kolokov’s only problem. He now had eleven wounded soldiers and had lost another three to the explosion. He had no idea of the identity of the man killed with Floyd, or where the Bell GlobalRanger helicopter had gone, but he was certain he would find out. Some intelligence analyst would compile a comprehensive report. Kolokov would do his best to ensure the bony finger of blame stayed away from him.
He was walking through the smoldering forest amid the embers of the fire. Trees had been incinerated, leaving only blackened stumps here and there. The mountainside was a shattered mess of boulders and rocks, and the earth itself had been scorched by the powerful explosion. The scent of rocket fuel lingered in the air, mingling with the stench of ash, burned flesh, and metal. The three men he’d lost were simply gone. There were no bodies to bring home. Kolokov shook his head at the scene of devastation.
“Come on,” he commanded. “Gather the wounded. We’re moving out.”
Nestor, his second-in-command, started barking orders. His men abandoned the search for survivors and started moving toward the two flying tanks, helping the wounded as they went.
Kolokov kicked aside a smoldering chunk of charcoal. Part of a tree? Or a person? He couldn’t tell and didn’t care. He wanted to get as far away from the scene of failure as possible. He hurried toward the Mil Mi-24 helicopters and tried to avoid making eye contact with the pilot of the aircraft on the left. If he spent too long looking at the sheepish man who’d fired the missiles that had killed their target he might feel impelled to execute him instantly, and that would not be wise considering the pilot was needed to get them out of this godforsaken place.
Kolokov chose to ride in the other aircraft and consoled himself with the knowledge that the man would be properly dealt with when they returned to Moscow.
CHAPTER 55
JUSTINE WAS ON her own, sitting on the couch in Jessie’s office. She’d needed some time by herself. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how she’d move on from this, but she had to find a way to function at the very least. She was no use to anyone in this state. She felt exhausted. Her eyes burned with the salt of so many tears, and her mind was numb.
She checked her watch—it was 11:05 a.m.—and got to her feet. She left the room, stepping into an open-plan office that was largely empty. The nearest desks were vacant, but a couple of investigators were working at the back of the room. Justine avoided meeting their eyes.
She hurried to the meeting room on the corner of the thirty-sixth floor, knocked, and entered to find it empty. She saw the phone receiver she had dropped on the floor had been replaced. She walked over to it, and shivered as she touched it. She looked around the room where her life had changed forever, suddenly struck by the intense desire not to be there. Not just in the room, but in the office, maybe not in Private at all. Without Jack there was nothing for her here, and the thought of spending each and every day working at an organization where she would constantly be reminded of him filled her with dread.
She left the room and almost walked into Jessie, who was coming along the corridor outside. She looked pale and her eyes were puffy with grief.
“Mo-bot is in the computer room, working. She’s pretty cut up, but losing herself in the machines is her way of dealing with it.”
Hearing Jessie talk about the grief of others made Justine choke up. Jack had meant so much to so many people, she felt selfish only to have thought of how his death had impacted her. Fresh tears ran down her cheeks. She wiped them away.
“I just don’t know what to do,” she said. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”
Jessie put a consoling hand on Justine’s arm. “Me neither.”
The warmth of human touch caused Justine to break down again, and she shuddered as she sobbed.
“Come on,” Jessie said. “We should get you out of here. I’m supposed to relieve Alvarez and Taft in a couple hours. Let’s go now. Beth and the children will give us something to focus on. They need us.”
Justine nodded and allowed herself to be steered through the office to the elevators. The receptionists looked at her with sadness and sympathy but said nothing as they stepped into the car that would take them down to the parking garage. Minutes later, they were on the road to the safe house in Rye.
The gray winter light robbed everything of color and much of the world was shrouded in thick snow, creating a canvas of grief onto which Justine projected memories of her time with Jack. She’d loved him from the moment they’d met. Others knew him as a tough man of action, but she’d seen a different side. He’d had a generous spirit and felt deep compassion toward anyone who experienced suffering. And then there was his sense of humor. Not a day had passed when he hadn’t managed to make her smile. As the drab landscape sped by, she wondered whether she would ever laugh again. They’d had their ups and downs, but after the Moscow investigation Justine had felt things might be getting serious. She winced at the thought of all the moments they would never have together. Wherever she looked, she saw images of an unlived future. A wedding. Children. A life together growing old. All gone. Taken by violence. She wept, but kept looking out of the window because these shades of what she’d lost were all she had left of Jack.
Jessie didn’t say anything, and when Justine glanced at her she saw a grim-faced woman who was trying to weather her own storm of grief. They traveled without speaking, with nothing more than the rhythm of the wheels rolling over the highway to break the silence.
Sixty minutes after leaving the office, they rolled into the driveway of the shorefront house on Pine Island. There was a blue Chevy Suburban parked near the front door.
“It’s not easy, is it?” Jessie remarked.
Justine shook her head and wiped her eyes. Jessie reached over the armrest and embraced her, an act of kindness that prompted more tears. When they let go, the two women stepped into the bitter cold and headed for the house.
CHAPTER 56
JUSTINE HADN’T YET met Elizabeth Singer, but she recognized her from the photographs she’d seen. She had long dark hair and was about five feet six, with an athletic physique. She sat at the kitchen counter, eating lunch with her children. Roni Alvarez and Jim Taft sat on couches by the television. They were on their phones and had CNN on low. They stood the moment Jessie and Justine entered, and Taft, a gruff former Secret Service agent, spoke first.
“I’m sorry, boss,” he said to Jessie. “We heard.”
He indicated his phone. Justine shouldn’t have been surprised. Very little stayed secret in the days of instant communication.
“My condolences,” Roni said. She was a former FBI agent, who had seen her fair share of action, but the tears welling in her eyes told Justine that Jack’s death had affected her deeply.
“Thanks,” Justine replied.
“Condolences?” Beth Singer asked. “What for? What’s going on?”
Justine felt a wave of nausea. They hadn’t told her what had happened. Maybe they hadn’t known Floyd and Jack had been together.
“Roni, could you take Danny and Maria next door?” Jessie said. Beth’s expression immediately hardened from puzzlement to concern.
“What’s going on?” she asked fearfully.
Jessie didn’t answer. Roni mustered the children and led them into a living room that lay off the main family room. They looked confused and frightened.
“Don’t worry, kids,” Roni assured them. “Ms. Fleming just wants to talk to your mom.”
“It’s OK, guys,” Beth said.
Roni shut the door and Jessie and Justine approached the breakfast bar. Justine felt immensely sorry for Beth because she knew the crushing blow that was coming her way.
Beth must have read the news in the other women’s expressions because she clutched the countertop, saying: “No.”
“I’m afraid we have reason to believe your husband was killed today,” Jessie said.
Justine started crying herself when she saw tears spring to Beth’s eyes. She’d never before met this woman, but she walked over and embraced her. They were bound by grief.
“No,” Beth said. “It can’t be true.”
“Our operatives witnessed an explosion,” Jessie said, and Justine felt Beth shake and shudder against her.
“What am I going to tell the children?” she said between sobs.
Justine didn’t know what to say. No words would make the slightest difference to her pain because death was something that couldn’t be soothed away. It was a permanent wrench, the destruction of a future and the forced imposition of a different path, one devoid of the company and companionship of the departed. Nothing could make it better, so Justine just hugged Beth tightly.
A loud digital alarm sounded. Taft went over to the TV stand and picked up the device that was making the noise. Roni emerged from the living room.
Justine saw Taft pick up an iPad and examine it carefully.
“We installed motion detectors in the grounds,” he said. “Two of them were just triggered.”
CHAPTER 57
FEAR CONQUERED JUSTINE’S grief. She stepped away from Beth and went over to Taft, who studied the iPad.
“Roni, can you bring the kids in here?” Jessie said.
She nodded and ducked into the living room. “Come on, guys. We need to go back,” she said. A moment later she appeared at the door with Danny and Maria and ushered them into the family room.
“Where are they?” Justine asked, peering at the iPad.
“We’ve had two triggered at the back on the outer perimeter, either side of the property. Looks like they came along the beach.”
He pointed to an on-screen digital representation of the property. Two markers near the waterline were flashing red.
“Could it be someone walking a dog along the beach?”
“It’s private,” Taft replied. “Shouldn’t be anyone out there. And…”
He stopped talking and gestured to the screen where a third marker, this one further into the garden, had been activated. “We’ve got another one.”
“We need to get to the cars,” Justine said.
Jessie nodded.
“What’s happening, Mom?” Maria asked.
“We’ve got to leave,” Jessie said, before Beth could answer.
Justine racked her mind, replaying the journey from Manhattan. Had she and Jessie been so wrapped in grief they’d slipped up and failed to notice they were being followed? Or had their location been compromised some other way? She had no doubt whoever was out there wanted Beth and the children.
“I’ll take point,” Taft said, producing a Glock 19.
Maria gasped and looked at her mom.
“It’s OK, honey,” Beth assured her.
Justine wasn’t a fan of guns, but she was glad to see one at that moment.
“Alvarez, you watch our six,” Taft said.
“We’ll split for the vehicles,” Jessie added. “Beth, you come with me and Jim. Justine, you take Maria and Danny in the Suburban with Roni.”
“I’m not leaving my children,” Beth said firmly.
“We need to separate the targets,” Jessie replied. “It’s too great a risk for you all to be in the same car.”
“I am not leaving them!” Beth shouted.
Jessie shook her head. “OK. Beth, Maria, and Danny come with Jim and me. Let’s move.”
Justine nodded and fell in beside Maria, who looked up anxiously. Justine smiled at her but got no response.
They followed Taft to the front door. He checked the windows on either side, gave the thumbs-up, and opened the door. There was a crack and a whistling sound. Taft clutched his throat and fell to his knees: he’d been shot in the neck.
CHAPTER 58
MARIA SCREAMED AND Danny started wailing. Justine instinctively grabbed the girl and pulled her close, so she couldn’t see the horror. Beth did the same with Danny.
“Jim!” Roni yelled.
Jessie tried to pull him inside, but a second bullet struck his skull and his head whiplashed with a sickening crack. Justine had to choke back bile. She swallowed the acrid liquid as Taft fell forward onto the icy porch. That was when Justine saw them: three masked men, all in black, holding machine pistols fitted with suppressors. Jessie tried to shut the front door, but Taft’s body blocked the threshold.
The men were close now, running across the drive past the Nissan. Jessie grabbed Taft’s gun and fired a couple of wild rounds. The men scattered, taking cover behind the vehicles.
Justine heard a noise behind her and turned to see three black-clad men at the glass doors overlooking the waterline. One was working the lock. Roni shot at the man. The bullet made a perfect hole in the glass, hitting him in the shoulder. One of his accomplices dragged him away from the door while the other returned fire, the glass splintering around them.
“Come on,” Roni said. “Upstairs!”
Jessie loosed a couple more rounds to buy time, before pushing Beth and Danny toward the stairs.
Justine and Maria followed behind them as they crossed the marble hallway. Roni was laying covering fire as they ran to the right-hand flight of stairs and raced up them. Justine held Maria’s hand and pulled the distressed girl up after her onto the curved balcony that joined the two staircases.
“He’s setting a charge,” Roni yelled, sprinting after them.
Jessie followed her. As Justine watched the two women race up the staircases, Roni on the left and Jessie on the right, she heard a small explosion and the sound of glass shattering.
“This way,” Roni said. They ran into a corridor leading off to the right.
The children whimpered and cried as they all dashed past a number of bedrooms before reaching a master suite at the very end of the corridor. They bundled inside and Roni shut and locked the door.
