False front, p.23
False Front, page 23
“Tox!”
“Sorry, Emily. Now I just think of you as one of the guys.”
Emily sat back against Nathan’s chest, the offense forgotten.
Finn entered the room with a duffle slung over his shoulder. “You girls gonna be okay on your own?”
Tox stood and slapped him on the back. “Beat it, spook. We’ll call you if we need you.”
“Copy that. It’s been a pleasure.” And with that, he was out the door.
Charlie marched through the room into the kitchen, planted a Hollywood kiss on Maggie, then turned back to the group.
“Okay, your destination is the U.S. Naval Research Lab outpost in Norfolk. Lots of letters of the alphabet awaiting your arrival. I have cars ready nearby. Nathan, you take the case with Chat. Tox and I will take the lead car. Ren and Twitch, you follow. Wheels up from Charleston 0600.”
Nathan walked Emily down the wide deck stairs, around the high grass and dunes, and to the long flat beach. She could barely make out the water, but the wind had kicked up and she could hear the rumble of the waves crashing and the slosh of their retreat.
“I don’t want to leave you.”
“I don’t want you to leave, but it’s okay. I’ve gotten pretty good at looking out for myself.”
“I know that. I do. But you shouldn’t have to.”
“Dad and I are going to stay another day. Dad wants to catch up with Charlie, and I want to walk on the beach.”
“Just walk?”
“Well, with you gone, walking is about the most exciting thing I can do on the beach.”
Nathan dipped his head into the crook of her neck and kissed his way down to her clavicle. He palmed her breast beneath the cozy cardigan. “I’m not gone yet.” Nathan pulled off his barn jacket and spread it on the sand. Emily hiked her skirt up and positioned herself on the coat. As he dropped his pants and boxer briefs to his ankles, Nathan disappeared under her flowy skirt. Emily shouted out his name, her cries swallowed by the surf. Nathan emerged with a devilish grin and brought Emily astride him. She impaled herself on his length and wrapped her legs around his waist as Nathan bent his knees to cradle her as they moved. They came together as Nathan roared. And there in the howling wind, beside the raging surf and under stars that blinked as clouds rushed by, Nathan held Emily until she fell asleep.
Emily awoke feeling out of sorts. She knew Nathan had carried her into bed, and she also knew he was gone. She chided herself for feeling so dependent that his absence made her physically ill. She had one day to herself, and she was going to enjoy every minute of it. She plotted a mental agenda as she shed her clothes from the night before and popped into the shower. Her need to steady herself on the tile wall as the water beat down had her wondering if this was some residual side effect from the drug she had been given; her equilibrium was off. When her head cleared, she dried off, slipped into cozy yoga pants and a sweater and followed the smell of bacon and cinnamon.
Maggie turned and smiled, looking like the star of a baking show with her bright apron and tray of warm sticky buns. Emily breathed deep and took a step forward to snatch a treat, then the room spun. She groped for the chair back nearby and finally steadied herself on the kitchen counter. Maggie set the tray down and calmly rested a hand on her back.
“Sweetie? You okay?”
“I think so. I’ve just been dizzy.”
“When did it start?”
“This morning. Well, I guess I’ve noticed it for a day or two. I could be coming down with a bug. Or it’s some type of residual effect of the drug I was given.”
“Charlie always says when you see hoofprints—think horses, not zebras.”
Emily didn’t pretend to misunderstand.
“I’m not pregnant.” She pointed to her arm. “I have an implant.” Her eyes followed her finger to her right upper arm. More specifically, to the small healed cut on her upper arm. “Oh my God, they removed it. They must have thought it was a tracking implant.” Emily looked at Maggie, who was beaming at her. “I think we need to visit Dr. Hardy. Great name for a doctor, isn’t it?”
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.” Emily covered her face with her hands.
“Emily.” Maggie’s voice was soft but stern. Emily looked up. “Herc came to me when his father, my son Angus, got his high school girlfriend pregnant. My neighbor Helen had a baby at forty-eight. She has a grandchild older than her youngest. My skunk of a first husband left me with three babies under the age of three.” Maggie cupped Emily’s face and thumbed away the tears. “Every baby is a miracle. You’ll realize that soon enough.”
Emily shook her head. “It’s too soon.”
Just then, Hercules stomped into the room in his boxers and a T-shirt wrinkled from sleep. “Smells awesome in here, Mhamó.”
Maggie shook her head. “They also have terrible timing.” Both women laughed.
The sleek, black Bentley pulled silently to the curb. A pair of elegantly trousered legs and a gleaming, ebony cane emerged onto the pavement. The weathered hand that held the jade carved snake head at the handle followed. The man turned and extended his other hand to the delicate arm of the lady behind him. The petite woman, clad in a simple black sheath with a double strand of pearls at her neck, emerged and stood by his side. Next came a young Asian man, in a wrinkled button-down shirt and dark slacks, holding a laptop. The trio waited for the pair of hulking bodyguards to flank them, then they walked silently into the auction house. A professional-looking woman greeted them in the sparse but elegant lobby.
“Herr Dohrmann?”
The man nodded once and signaled for the guard to produce his credentials. When the employee had inspected them, she turned and directed them into a private elevator. The woman spoke more to fill the silence than to impart information.
“Obviously, the Gutenberg is the big draw. Although there are some collectors for the lot that interests you. The three I’m aware of are bidding remotely. You may end up with quite a steal.”
The man gave his cane an imperceptible squeeze, and without taking his eyes from the mirrored doors, in thickly accented English, said simply, “I doubt that.”
One hour later, Herr Dohrmann and his wife slowly walked to the curb and returned to the idling sedan. Their techie, phone at his ear, peeled off from the group and climbed into a nondescript SUV. One of the bodyguards placed the case in the rear footwell and got into the front passenger seat; the other guard was already behind the wheel. Only then did Herr Dohrman allow a small smile to tilt his lips. The driver’s eyes met his in the rearview mirror.
“Congratulations, sir.”
“Thank you. Let’s deliver this, and if you wouldn’t mind, we’d like to go to the Russian Tea Room.”
“Of course.”
“I’m taking my wife to lunch.”
Emily wrapped the cotton cardigan more tightly around her. Despite the warm weather, the breeze had picked up, and she felt an ominous chill. Dr. Hardy had kindly stopped by the cottage on his way to the office and confirmed Maggie’s diagnosis. Although once Emily realized her birth control implant had been removed, it wasn’t difficult to guess. She’d gone from virgin to sex maniac in a matter of days. Caroline’s unabashed texts were filled with suggestions for bedroom antics. Nathan would snatch her phone and hold it out of reach as he read Caroline’s pornographic ideas. My god, half of this shit I’ve never heard of, and I’ve been around. Emily had blanched at the remark, but Nathan was quick to ease her mind. Emily, it was meaningless. A facade. I didn’t have a different name like you did, but I was another person just the same. Emily had given him a wicked smile and crawled into his lap. Now, this reverse cowgirl sounds interesting . . . .
It was odd for a woman who had been so solitary to perceive Nathan’s absence with such intensity. Nevertheless, she felt a palpable ache, a phantom pain. Perhaps that feeling had been there all along, but like the memories of her captivity, she had packed it away, unresolved. And now she was carrying his child. Despite the unexpected news and the awful timing, Emily was filled with a foreign feeling that she correctly noted was . . . hope. She ran a gentle hand over her flat belly and imagined herself rounded and full. Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed the burly man standing beside one of the marked beach exit trails through the dunes. The voice behind her had her spinning around as she skirted a beached jellyfish. Dario Sava stood with his hands in the pockets of a duster, a stylish fedora tilted just so.
“You were supposed to be mine, you know.”
Emily studied him for a moment, struck by the utter lack of emotion in his wistful words. While attractive and quietly confident, the apathy in his dark eyes made her shudder. She examined her options. The man had no weapon that she could see, and she had taken down men bigger than his henchman.
“I would have taken good care of you. Tala would have spoiled you rotten. You would have wanted for nothing. Known no fear. Your life would have been so different.”
“And yet, you were the cause of that fear. Is that something a father would do, Mr. Sava?”
If he was surprised by the use of his name, he didn’t show it.
“Perhaps not. Nevertheless, your father took something from me, took everything from me, and order must be restored. I cannot go to Tala while this injustice lingers.”
Emily noticed then his gaunt face and thin frame.
“The cancer has returned.” It wasn’t a question.
“With a vengeance, I’m afraid.” Dario spoke with the disinterest of someone talking about the weather.
“You’re one to speak of injustice.”
“Ah, my dear, you understand little of the world. Moving from order to chaos is the natural way of things.” Dario paused and looked out to the horizon. You make me mourn the loss of having you as a child. I could have taught you so much.”
The hulk began to step toward her. Emily readied her stance.
“I must ask you not to resist. Pedro is merely our escort. You will come willingly, or I will detonate the small explosive in the case currently in the possession of your lover. You should pray the explosion kills him; the toxin that will be released brings a much more unpleasant end.”
Emily thought for a moment. There was a chance he was bluffing. Tox and Ren had examined the case and found no explosive. But they hadn’t opened the canister that contained the toxin.
“I see your mind working. I assure you I mean what I say. However, if the inevitable demise of Nathan Bishop and everyone in his vicinity isn’t motivation enough, Pedro’s brother is across the way with your father in his crosshairs as he reads on the porch. It’s strange, really. You’ve lived a selfish existence thus far, focused solely on self-preservation. Your father has sacrificed everything for you. Have you ever danced with the notion of doing the same for him?”
No. She hadn’t. It was a scenario she hadn’t considered. Would she?
“Lead the way.”
With that, Emily took her place between the guard and Dario as they walked off the beach and climbed into a black SUV. The man in the back seat beside her sat stone-faced and vigilant. Dario took the passenger seat and Pedro climbed behind the wheel. Again, Emily weighed her options.
“I apologize for the tranquilizer. We have a long drive ahead of us, and like you, I minimize risk.”
Before Emily could resist or think about the effect of the drug on the new life inside her, she felt the prick in her arm, and knowing it was useless to struggle, sat back and watched the world go by. She couldn’t even put her hand to the window as she watched Hercules Reynolds maneuver Charlie’s three unwieldy dogs down the narrow sidewalk and stop to watch as the sleek SUV turned the corner and drove away.
“It’s pancake syrup.”
Charlie and Nathan stood there dazed and stared as the scientist, Navy Lieutenant Brooks, peeled off his protective gear. “Mrs. Butterworth’s if I’m not mistaken. It has an additional additive that gives it a slightly different smell and taste than, say, Log Cabin or Aunt Jemima.”
Tox leaned over to Ren. “Is he shitting us right now?”
“Well, it does taste different, but I see your point.”
North got them back on track. “And as far as other additives?”
“Just plain old syrup. You could pour it on an Eggo.”
“Damn, now I want waffles.” Tox, of course.
“Fucking Sava and his fucking red herrings.” Charlie Bishop allowed the rare burst of temper. “There’s a biotoxin out there that we have no clue how to find.”
“Not necessarily.” Nathan’s face was impassive, but his confidence betrayed his suspicion. “I think Dario Sava acquired something extremely valuable from Detachment 731, and I also think he’s selling it, but I don’t think it’s a virus.” Nathan had their full attention. “I think it’s a formula. Or more specifically, a journal from one of the researchers, or even Ishii himself, containing methods of reengineering viruses, formulas, and results.”
“My God,” Ren reflected, “a bioterrorist guidebook.”
“Exactly,” Nathan confirmed. “The collective research from Detachment 731 has unfathomable potential for devastation.”
“What made you conclude it’s a journal?” Chat queried.
Nathan thanked Lieutenant Brooks, and the scientist retreated to his lab.
“As Charlie mentioned, the CIA has a man inside the Sava organization, Camilo Canto. You guys remember him? He was with the Teams for a couple of years. JJ?”
“Oh shit, yeah. El Jefe de Joder. The boss of fuck.” Tox started to go on, but Ren’s quelling look silenced him. Tox cleared his throat. “You were saying, North?”
“So, Sava’s got all these balls in the air. He tries to abduct Emily. He’s trying to smuggle some sort of bioweapon into the U.S., then out of the blue, he pulls Cam aside and tells him to deliver a set of books to a rare book auction in New York.”
“But why would he even do that when he could just sell the book from the comfort of his home?”
Charlie knew the answer. “It’s what happens when recklessness meets arrogance. Anyone can sell a weapon like that. Dario Sava auctioned off a collection of research on the most lethal biotoxins ever used right under our noses.”
“About a week ago, I had a strange conversation with Anya Amirov, the wife of a very high-profile broker. I correctly assumed her husband would be at the front of the line for a biotoxin purchase. He has ties to both Chechen rebels and Syrian terror groups. I was working her for information on the auction, and she said her husband had complained about a meeting which must have been with Sava’s people. She said he kept going on about how he wasn’t a ‘do-it-yourself-er.’ I didn’t put it together at the time, but Amirov must have been referencing the fact that the item discovered from Detachment 731 was research and not an actual toxin. So, when Cam called to update me and told me about his errand to the book auction, it clicked.”
Charlie blew out an audible breath and looked at Nathan with something akin to pride.
Twitch looked up from her tablet. “Torvald Auction House held a rare book auction this morning. One of the items was the 1945 journal of Japanese writer Yasunari Kawabata.”
“That’s setting off some alarm bells.”
“Not as much as this,” Twitch added. “The journal’s estimated value was between $90,000 and $150,000. It sold for $3.2 million.”
“That’s our book.”
“How do we track it down?”
“We don’t need to.” The group waited for Nathan to elaborate. “It’s sitting in my safe. My doorman Leonard Pipham has a very colorful background in England. My grandfather worked with him.”
“He was in Parliament?”
“Oh, God no. Much less devious. He was a spy, back when they still used that term. A good one, too. Some of his exploits with the SAS are the stuff of legend.”
Ren looked stunned. “Not the Mongoose?”
Twitch rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. The Mongoose is a Cold War myth invented by people who read too much Follett and Forsyth.”
Nathan continued without denial or confirmation. “In any event, Leonard is perfect for certain odd jobs. Nobody suspects a seventy-five-year-old operative. Leonard bought the book. Teddy handled the electronic transfer.”
“Teddy?” Twitch’s voice was laced with irritation.
Teddy was Twitch’s protégé of sorts. She had beaten him in some sort of legitimate hacking competition, and as payback, Teddy had done some rather nasty things, not the least of which was have ConEd cut off her electricity for lack of payment. Rather than her normal scorched earth approach, Twitch simply showed up at his door. When she discovered with amused shock that Teddy, hacker name the uninventive “Doom,” lived with his aunt and uncle in a room that was basically under a staircase, she simply looked at him and said the only thing she could: you’re a wizard, Teddy. From then on, Teddy had become like a little brother to her. He wasn’t privy to her work at K-B, not yet anyway, but Twitch had an equally impressive set up in her Brooklyn brownstone, complete with a gaming system, and she and Teddy spent nearly all their free time there. Teddy had dangerous skills. Twitch shouldered the responsibility of keeping Teddy on the straight and narrow, or straight and broadband as the case may be.
“He was ready for a job, don’t you think?”
“He should have told me.”
“I was testing him. He tends to run his mouth. I wanted to see what he did.”
“Looks like he passed.”
“He did, but it’s about to get tricky. He’s following the money transfer, but Dario Sava is not some two-bit drug courier. Even with our virtual explosive dye pack, he’s going to need your help.”
Twitch nodded. “I’ll have him meet me at the office. We headed to NYC?”
Nathan nodded as the group moved to pack up. “I’m going to accompany Charlie back to South Carolina and fetch Emily.”
