Operation Nightfall (The Phoenix Chronicles Book 12), page 14
“Get down,” J.D. said.
Besserman ducked and J.D. trained his gun in the direction just beyond him, making more firing noises with his mouth.
“You were almost a goner,” J.D. said. “That guy snuck up on us, but I think we got ‘em all now.”
“Thanks,” Besserman said, offering his hand for a high-five.
J.D. slapped Besserman’s palm before running off to fight more imaginary enemies.
Besserman poked his head into the barn to let Alex know he’d made it back.
“How was it?” she asked, jamming a pitchfork into a busted bale and tossing the hay into a trough.
“It was great,” Besserman said. “Just what I needed.”
“I knew you’d like it. There are a few other good hikes on our property as well. If you want to go on another one, just let me know.”
“I’ll definitely do that,” he said, pausing for a moment. “But there was something odd that happened on my hike though.”
“What was it?”
“Well, I think it was odd, but maybe it’s just that I’m very paranoid right now.”
“Hard not to be after all you’ve been through. But what happened?”
“I was coming out of the ravine and I saw sunlight glint off something in the distance. I thought maybe it was some stationary object, so I backed up to the spot where I noticed it but couldn’t see it. Then I pulled out my binoculars and didn’t see anything. Whatever it was, it was gone. So, I don’t know. Think it was a car?”
Alex rubbed the back of her neck and scrunched up her nose. “I don’t know. You’d have to show me the direction where you saw it glinting.”
“It was kind of to the northeast of here.”
“Interesting. Can you point to the general area where you think you saw something?”
“Yeah, right over there,” he said, pointing toward the top of a ridge. “Want to use my binoculars?”
She shook her head. “I want something a little stronger and a little more focused.”
Alex ducked into the house, leaving Besserman on the porch by himself.
“She’s going to get her gun,” little J.D. said.
“Her gun? You’ve seen her shoot it?”
The boy nodded. “Daddy always says never get on Mommy’s bad side.”
Besserman chuckled as he watched J.D. make truck noises and pretend like he was driving away very quickly. The CIA director was still smiling when Alex returned with a Mauser M18 rifle.
“What’s so funny?” she asked. “Did J.D. tell you a joke?”
“Not intentionally.”
Alex jammed the butt of the M18 against her shoulder before peering through the scope. “He’ll do that from time to time. It’s not always funny when he tries those shenanigans around bedtime.”
“So he’s like his father?”
Alex pulled back from the scope and gave Besserman a sideways glance. “Hawk would say he’s like me.”
Besserman looked sheepishly at his feet. “So you’re both a pair of smart asses. Got it.”
Alex returned her attention to the scope and studied the area, the barrel sweeping back and forth.
Then a growl and a curse. She looked over her shoulder, presumably to make sure J.D. didn’t hear it.
“What is it?” Besserman asked.
She cursed again.
“This was plan A,” Besserman said. “Do we need a plan B?”
Alex shook her head. “I refuse to be a prisoner in my own home.”
“What is it?” Besserman asked.
She handed him the rifle and pointed in the general direction she was looking when she’d become angry.
Besserman cursed too.
TWENTY-TWO
WASHINGTON, D.C.
The Magnum Group’s plan to set up Mei Ling Wu required a few favors to be called in, first and foremost getting the IFF conference director Pamela Sanders to allow Rebecca Fornier to show the star guest speaker around Washington. Rebecca pulled up to Wu’s hotel in a black Bugatti Divo rented from an exotic car dealer. While a 24-hour rental of a vehicle stretched the budget, it kept Wu’s security team in a trailing SUV and also ensured that she would document every second of her excursion, leveraging the opportunity to look filthy rich on social media.
Wu strutted out to the Divo wearing a Thom Browne gray merino wool dress with a white spread collar and black pumps. Rebecca thought the outfit wasn’t flattering to Wu’s voluptuous figure, but it was sure to attract attention from the fashion writers, which was what Wu was obviously most concerned with. She spun and waved at the cluster of photographers on the sidewalk before slipping into the passenger seat. The door shut automatically and then Wu turned to Rebecca.
“Make sure you speak to Nelson after we’re done,” Wu said. “I’ll make sure you get a substantial tip for arranging this car.”
Rebecca wanted to make small talk with Wu, but she put her head down and started scrolling through her phone.
“Anything in particular you’d like to see in Washington today?” Rebecca asked.
Wu didn’t look up. “Whatever backdrops will get me the most likes, though I don’t expect you to know that off the top of your head.”
“The Smithsonian has a collection of some of the world’s most interesting art as well as artifacts, both ancient and modern. It’s hard to go wrong there.”
“Then I guess that’s where we’ll go,” Wu said, offering a smile that looked more like a pain expression than genuine joy.
She put her head back down and swiped away on her phone.
Rebecca hadn’t officially been on the Magnum Group team for long and she wasn’t sure how she felt about what she was going to do to Wu. But less than ten minutes into meeting her, Rebecca knew she wouldn’t have a single regret. Wu may have been a rising star internationally due to her good looks, but she seemed to excel at being insufferable.
As Rebecca drove past several iconic symbols in Washington, Wu begged her to stop in order to capture the moment.
“My followers will just love this,” Wu said, almost verbatim at very location.
Rebecca found herself serving as not only Wu’s driver but also her photographer, snapping photos in front of the Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, and the Capitol Building. Eventually, they wound their way to the Smithsonian’s National Museum of Natural History, pulling up to the front where a group of photographers descended upon her as she made a dramatic exit from the vehicle.
Rebecca remained in the background as Wu lapped up the attention, posing next to the car and then strutting toward the entrance. It wasn’t until she entered the building that she even looked for Rebecca.
One pool reporter and photographer were allowed to accompany the social media influencer during his tour of the museum. As they drifted from one room to the next, Wu looked for the most exotic object in the room and lingered by it until the photographer snapped a picture. At one point, her tour intersected with a group of elementary school students on a field trip, which Wu took advantage of, stopping to interact with them. The photographer rushed over to capture the interaction where Wu knelt in front of a couple of girls and told them they could be anything they wanted to be in the future and to work hard to make good grades. Rebecca wanted to roll her eyes but refrained for fear of her reaction getting caught on camera.
Rebecca handed a note to the reporter that said Wu’s team wanted to get her on camera answering a particular question. The reporter nodded, signaling she was fine with granting the request. It was benign in nature—and maybe even one that would create a viral clip for social media, depending how she answered. But Rebecca still felt a twinge of guilt for setting up Wu.
As they climbed to the second floor, they entered the room containing the Hope Diamond, a 45-carat diamond extracted from India in the 17th century. The rare jewel had a storied history as one of the world’s most desired diamonds by both collectors and thieves alike. Situated in a special case that allowed museum patrons to view the Hope Diamond from four sides, it sparkled beneath the special lighting from the enclosed case as Rebecca circled it.
Museum handlers prevented other patrons from looking at the diamond until the current group gathered around the display case moved on. Once they moved on, the tour guide gestured toward the jewel, signaling for Wu to step forward and take a look. Wu’s eyes widened as she looked at it, her mouth falling slack.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Wu asked, her hand reaching for her neck, as if she was imagining what it would feel like to have it there. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Wu’s joy seemed genuine, her pretentious attitude gone. She smiled at Rebecca.
“Have you seen this thing?” Wu asked.
Rebecca nodded. “It’s something else, isn’t it?”
“I mean, yeah. It’s amazing. Who wouldn’t want that in their jewelry collection?”
Rebecca smiled. She didn’t even need the reporter to ask any questions if that exchange had been captured. It might as well have been a brazen prediction of what she would later do.
“What do you think of the Hope Diamond?” the reporter asked, following instructions, as if it wasn’t already obvious.
Wu repeated her previous statement to Rebecca before gushing about it. “That diamond has to be one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Just look at how it sparkles and shines.”
The photographer who’d been capturing the museum tour moved in for a closeup of the jewel before shooting through the case and getting a shot of Wu staring at the object. Her eyes shone bright, her smile broad. Then she mouthed a “wow,” one that was long and drawn out.
She’ll be proud to post that one on social media.
The photographer clicked away until he was satisfied that he had several good images. He even alerted her to the fact that he was done. But her awe was real as she lingered for a moment, staring at the rock.
After they finished the tour, Rebecca drove Wu back to her hotel. The model shook Rebecca’s hand, pressing a folded-up bill into her palm. Rebecca didn’t look at the money until Wu was inside the hotel. It was a five-dollar bill. Not that she expected a tip for the tour, but it was almost an insult. She would’ve rather received nothing.
Despite Wu’s rude disposition, Rebecca couldn’t help but feel like they were doing her wrong.
“How’d it go?” Hawk asked over the coms.
Rebecca looked into her purse and dug out a small black box. “The cloning device worked. I’ve got her phone.”
“And everything else?”
Rebecca sighed as she eased into gear and pulled away from the hotel. “Do we really have to do this? I mean, she doesn’t really deserve to be treated like we’re going to treat her, does she?”
“Of course not,” Hawk said. “But that’s the point. We’re doing this to get at Fang, okay? Just remember that. This isn’t about Mei Ling Wu, though I hear she’s insufferable and it might be fun to watch her squirm. But this is all about Fang and stopping Operation Nightfall. If we don’t do this, he’s going to do far worse to far more innocent people.”
“But here’s the thing. I think she’s completely innocent in all of this.”
“Nobody’s ever completely innocent. Besides, if you remember that the entire reason that Besserman is holed up to avoid getting arrested for a crime he didn’t commit, you’ve got a short memory. This is for Bobby, too. Remember?”
“I know,” she said. “There’s just something that doesn’t feel right about all this.”
“You can work out the ethics and morality of what we’re doing later. But in the meantime, we need to shut down Fang before he gets to be more powerful.”
Mia’s voice piped in over the coms. “Great work, Rebecca. I just checked the download. We’ve got everything we need off Wu’s phone.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“And does it look like she’s some hardened criminal mastermind who’s part of all this?”
“Not at first glance, but I just started digging,” Mia said. “You just keep up the good work, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Rebecca said, still unable to shake off the guilt that was gnawing at her.
But she told herself that it didn’t matter and to stay focused.
“The only thing that matters is stopping Fang,” she said aloud to herself, almost as if she was trying to convince herself it was true.
It was. And she knew it. But the image of Wu staring giddily at the Hope Diamond was forever seared into her brain.
She would do her job when the time came, but she wasn’t sure she’d be happy about it.
TWENTY-THREE
BRIDGER, MONTANA
Alex went to her room and retrieved her camera and telephoto lens. It had been a while since she’d been on a surveillance op, but she was proud of the way she’d mastered capturing images from such a long distance. She grabbed a tripod as well before returning to the living room.
“Whoa,” Besserman said. “That’s quite a camera you’ve got there.”
“Sometimes size does matter,” she said.
“I see that. So, we’re just gonna take pictures of these guys?”
Alex placed the camera on the table and ejected the memory card, replacing it with a clean one. “I could just pull out the M18 and start taking shots. Doesn’t matter to me either way. I mean if the director of the CIA says it’s all right, it’d save us a lot of time.”
“No,” Besserman said with a sigh. “We can’t do that. We’re on American soil, remember?”
“Yeah, I know. Due process and all that other fun legal stuff. If we were in Yemen, I wouldn’t have hesitated to take aim and pull the trigger.”
J.D. thundered into the house and ran straight to the kitchen. He opened a drawer in the fridge and pulled out a cheese stick.
“Make sure you throw away your trash,” she shouted.
“I always throw away my trash.”
“Young man,” Alex said, stopping to give him a piercing stare.
“Okay. Don’t worry, Mommy. I’ll throw it away.”
“Right now.”
Little J.D. unwrapped his cheese stick and tossed the plastic wrapping into the trash can before darting back outside.
“Thanks, J.D.,” she called after him in a sing-song voice.
Besserman shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Have you got a plan? Or are you just winging it here?”
“Hawk always says the best plans come to us when we’re in the middle of the action.”
“Really?”
Alex cracked a smile. “Of course not. We’ve always got a plan. Doesn’t mean it won’t fall apart, but we at least start with one.”
“And what one are you starting with here?”
“I want to find out if that little party up there on the ridge is legit first. And then there are a few different ways we can handle this.”
“Okay. Just let me know what I can do to help.”
“Once I take a few pictures, you can help me identify who these guys are.”
Alex slid open the glass doors leading to the deck from the upstairs bonus room and set up the tripod. After a couple of minutes, she had zoomed in on the men gathered around the trucks marked as Montana State Police. There was also a sign warning motorists to slow down and prepare for a search.
“Now I’ve never seen anything like that before,” she said.
“What is it?” Besserman asked as he joined her on the deck.
“It’s a roadblock. Now, I can understand if there’s one on the main highway. But on a county-maintained gravel road that only ranchers use? Seems a little suspect to me.”
She framed the men’s faces as best as she could, trying to get each one looking straight at the camera. The more direct the image was, the better chances she’d have of a match in the facial recognition database.
As she continued taking pictures, she dialed the phone number for the Montana State Police. A cheerful woman answered the phone and asked Alex about the nature of her call.
“I was wondering if you’re currently conducting a roadblock on Pryor Mountain Road near Bridger,” Alex said.
The woman laughed. “A roadblock? Up there? Absolutely not. Currently, the MSP isn’t conducting any roadblocks anywhere, so I don’t know what you’re seeing ma’am, but it’s not our guys.”
“Okay, thanks. Maybe they’re local.”
Alex ended the call.
“Maybe they’re local?” Besserman asked. “There’s nothing local about those vehicles.”
“I didn’t want her to think I was a lunatic,” Alex said. “Besides, I just wanted to make sure we were covering our bases.”
“So, they’re frauds,” he said. “Why don’t we just call the cops on them?”
“They’d vanish before the county sheriff could get here, guaranteed.”
“Maybe we could make sure they couldn’t leave,” Besserman suggested.
“Look, I appreciate the ideas, but you have to realize that we’re in the middle of nowhere and whoever that is up there can go off-road in that truck. And the last thing I want is to remain here as a sitting duck. If we call the cops, nothing’s gonna happen to them except that they’ll be pissed off and maybe get aggressive about coming after us. Now, I think we could handle them, but I try to do my best to avoid an ambush in my own home. It’s happened before and it wasn’t pretty. Plus, I don’t want J.D. being put in harm’s way. Understand?”
“Copy that. So, what is the plan?”
“Let’s see if we can figure out who these assholes are first.”
Alex began transferring the pictures she took from the camera into her laptop and then feeding them into facial recognition databases. However, Besserman stopped her after the third image.
“I know who this is,” Besserman said, pointing at the screen.
“Really?”
“Yeah, that’s Steve Wingate. I’d know that ugly mug anywhere.”
Alex stared at Wingate’s pockmarked face that had small scar across his cheek. “Friend of yours?”
Besserman snorted. “This guy has been a pain in the agency’s ass for a while now. He’s a mercenary and constantly winds up butting heads with us on certain ops.”
