“Not exactly,” said Moreau. “Those tire tracks you photographed before leaving are SUV tires. So I checked the rentals, and there was a little mom-and-pop agency that rented out a dark green 2001 Range Rover to Fisher. I went down there myself, and there was an old lady who recognized his picture.”
“So he’s in a Range Rover.”
“Yes, that’s a start. I’ll run the tag, and we’ll have the locals track it down.”
Hansen took a deep breath. “Can I call you Marty?”
“No.”
He moaned. “Mr. Moreau, you’re stalling us.”
“There’s a difference between stalling and being very thorough. When you get older, you’ll better appreciate that. You’ll better appreciate the artistry of your work.”
“Whatever. So what now? Should I just order the team to go driving around in the hopes that we happen to spot a Range Rover somewhere between here and Bavigne? You’re not going to alert the authorities. You’re just going to tell us you have.”
“Watch your tone, cowboy. There are some traffic cameras we can patch into as well. I’ve already put in that request.”
“Waste of time! Fisher could already be in Germany… or back in France. We could do a much better job if we knew more. You want us to play your game? Give us a few more rules.”
“Where’s the love, cowboy? Where’s the trust? Where’s the patience? Go relax. Go have a nice dinner. You deserve it.”
“I’m still full from lunch.”
“I heard about that. Lobster soup? Where’s mine?”
Hansen stiffened. “When I went to Russia — that was being a Splinter Cell. I don’t know what this is, but I hope, in the end, you make me believe it was worth it.”
Moreau smiled, and a twinkle came into his eye. “I can’t do that for you, cowboy. That’s all up to you.”
28
Hansen gathered the team in his room. “He’s just putting us through the motions. He already knew the weapons cache in Bavigne would be empty. He sent you guys to Germany to keep you busy. Checking the hostels was a waste of time. He says Fisher’s driving a rented Range Rover. He says he’ll have the locals help find it. I don’t believe him. He’s just telling us what we need to hear.”
“So what’re you saying, cowboy?” asked Ames.
Hansen leveled an index finger on Ames. “Don’t call me that. Ever.”
“How ’bout Tex?”
Valentina cursed at Ames.
“We all want you to die, Ames,” added Gillespie. “Doesn’t that bother you? When the bullets fly, we’ll use you as a human shield.”
Ames opened his mouth, but Hansen shouted, “Enough! Now, we either sit here on our hands, or we try to figure out what the hell’s going on.”
“How do we do that without them knowing about it?” asked Valentina. “We can’t use our network or our personnel. They’ll want to know why we’re querying.”
“She’s right,” said Ames. “We’d need someone outside of 3E but maybe still inside the NSA.”
“Or the CIA,” said Hansen, lifting his brows. “I have a friend. I owe him a favor, but maybe he’ll make it one more for me, and I’ll pay him back triple.”
“What do you have in mind?” asked Noboru.
“If Grim and Fisher are talking, it must be through a cutout, and there’s a chance that my CIA contact can drop a few names. Some of these guys in Europe work for more than one three-letter agency. If we can get the name of this cutout, maybe we can pay him or her a visit… ”
“That’s a long shot,” said Valentina. “It’ll be like going to talk to Chenevier. The cutout won’t hand over Fisher.”
Hansen snorted. “Maybe, maybe not. But apparently, we have nothing else to do — until Moreau calls with a sudden and miraculous update.”
“I’m all for it,” said Ames. “Best idea you’ve had in, like, forever.”
“You don’t want to complain?” asked Hansen, dumbfounded.
“Hell, no. Call your buddy right now. But you can’t use any of our cell phones. We need to get you one without Uncle Marty finding out.”
Valentina opened her purse and tossed a cell phone to Hansen. “Try this.”
“Yours?”
She cocked a brow. “Don’t ask too many questions. And by the way, our Tridents should be here in an hour or so.”
“How’d you pull off that?” asked Hansen.
She hardened her tone. “Like I said, don’t ask too many questions.”
Ames was very enthusiastic about finding Fisher because earlier in the day, when they’d stopped to buy lunch, he’d gone into the restroom and contacted Stingray.
Word from Kovac was that Ames could not allow Fisher to get anywhere near Vianden, Luxembourg. Fisher must be stopped before he got there.
The why was none of Ames’s business. Kovac somehow knew that was where Fisher was headed. But more important, these orders placed Ames in a ridiculously complicated situation.
He couldn’t tell the team that he knew where Fisher was going because he’d be unable to explain how he knew, which, in turn, would threaten his cover and his security as a mole.
But this… this was unexpected and quite beautiful. He would fuel Hansen’s frustration and goad him into learning the truth about Sam Fisher’s real mission — and Ames felt certain that Fisher’s mission directly involved Kovac, which raised the stakes to the highest level of their organization.
And when you played a game that important, you’d be a fool not to have an insurance policy. Ames had already made certain that if Mr. Kovac decided to make him the fall guy, then together they’d take an express train straight into hell. Now all Ames needed to do was find a way to reveal the Vianden link via Hansen’s desire for the team to investigate on its own. Or maybe Hansen wasn’t the key… Maybe someone else was…
Hansen used Valentina’s phone to call his buddy back at Langley to see if the good old CIA could bail out the good old NSA — not, ahem, that there was any rivalry between those organizations. Hansen had to leave a message. Valentina and Gillespie went to their room to change. They were going down to the restaurant for dinner.
Ames ordered a T-bone from room service, and he raided the liquor, finishing off a couple of small bottles of whiskey before he realized how drunk he was getting.
Moreau came down and rattled off a list of possible leads on Fisher’s whereabouts, and he reported that there was nothing yet from local police on the Range Rover. Hansen, Noboru, and Ames barely paid any attention to him. Moreau asked why they weren’t following up on the leads immediately, and Hansen answered him with two words: “Just chill.”
Mr. Moreau’s gaze grew harder. He nodded, then left the room. Ames checked his OPSAT simply for the time, but the screen was blurry. “What time is it?”
“Almost midnight,” answered Noboru.
“Are we doing anything else tonight except waiting around for your buddy to call?” asked Ames.
Hansen shook his head.
“That’s good. I want to rent some porn.”
Noboru glanced to Hansen. “Do we have to?”
“No, we don’t.”
“Aw, come on. You guys are going to sit there and tell me you don’t like porn?”
Hansen lifted a brow. “Not as much as you.”
Valentina ordered the vegetable plate and Gillespie decided that sounded good and ordered the same. They sat there, drinking sparkling water, staring at their vegetables, and wondering what the hell they were doing.
“I’m thinking about going back to being an analyst,” Gillespie said out of nowhere.
“Maybe I’ll join you.”