“Yes, but… Yes, I know, sir… Well, when you send teams internationally to steal people and blow things up, chances are pretty good that you will have international incidents… No, sir, I am not mocking you, but… You’ve got to be kidding! There’s no way we can shut down the operation now! Covington is still out there, and we’ve got to find him. That’s not something we can do stateside… No, I am not telling you what to-wait, you know what? Yes, I am telling you what to do, and I’m telling you what I am going to do. We are absolutely not leaving here without Riley Covington. So get that out of your mind! Also, I expect you to do everything in your power to retrieve Billy Murphy’s body from the Italian authorities. Do you understand?… Well, sir, you can do whatever you want to me when I get back stateside. For now, I expect you to do exactly what I’ve asked. I believe our conversation is over!”
Hicks pressed the End button on the phone with one hand and brought the knife down into the table with the other. “Pompous, stuffed-shirt, windbag, fancy tie-wearing, good-for-nothing…”
“So, how’d it go?” Scott asked with a smile.
“The idiot wants to shut us down! Can you believe it? He sends us out, but the moment things get a little bit messy, he wants to cut and run. When I get back, I’ve got a good mind to-”
“Hold that happy thought,” Scott said as he reached to answer his satellite phone. “Ross here… Yes, Mr. Porter… No, sir, we haven’t found him yet… Yes, sir, I overheard Jim’s side of the conversation… I couldn’t agree with you more, sir… Yes, sir, I’ll tell him. Thank you, sir.”
As Scott hung up the phone, Hicks reached into his pocket and tossed him a handkerchief.
“What’s this for?” Scott asked.
“It’s to wipe the brown off your nose. I haven’t heard that many ‘sirs’ in one conversation since boot camp.”
Scott laughed. “Yeah, well, Porter kind of brings it out of you.” As he talked, he went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of sparkling water. Then he reached in and grabbed a bottle of Fabbri 1905 Fantasy in Caffe chocolate syrup. “Anyway, he heard Moss’s side of the conversation, so he slipped out to give us a call. He said he knows that Moss is an equine’s posterior but wanted me to ask you to try to at least be civil to him while you’re ignoring his orders. Then he said to do whatever it took to get Riley back safe.”
“Sounds like Porter’s a pretty decent guy.”
“Yeah, as long as you’re doing your job. If I ran the zoo, he’d be the one filling Moss’s suit.”
Scott sat down at the table and unscrewed the cap from the water bottle. Hicks watched in disgust as Scott chugged about a quarter of it and then filled the empty space with chocolate sauce. He put the cap back on and rapidly shook the bottle. When the contents were as well mixed as thick syrup and sparkling water could get, Scott began the slow process of letting the built-up gas out of the bottle little by little. The first time he had experimented with this concoction, he had forgotten about the whole don’t-open-a-shaken-carbonated-beverage thing-not a mistake he was willing to repeat. Scott saw Hicks’s appalled look and said, “I agree. It ain’t the smooth goodness of Yoo-hoo, but it’s the closest I can get over here.”
The friends sat silently for a few minutes, each thinking about Riley. Then Scott said, “I’m still trying to get over Tara’s phone call about Sal Ricci. It doesn’t seem possible that a PFL player is behind the Platte River bombing.”
“Yeah, but they have him on video bringing in a full ball bag-right down the tunnel and past the security guard. He even waved to them. They have him swapping out the balls. They have him making his escape.”
“I just hope Riley doesn’t find out about Sal until he’s back with us.”
“If he’s still alive.”
“Shut up, Jim! He’s alive! Trust me, he’s alive.”
Khadi approached the two men and eyed Scott’s drink. “Not again, Scott. That stuff is appalling.”
“Come on, doesn’t the Koran say something about the benefits of a rich, chocolaty soda?”
“No,” Khadi replied. “Does the Bible?”
“’Fraid I wouldn’t know. But if it doesn’t, I think it should. First Chocolonians or something.”
Khadi shook her head. “Why can’t brilliant people be normal?”
“Thank you, and I don’t know. So what brings you to this part of our lovely abode?”
“We just had the changing of the guard on our stakeouts. Still nothing but regular activity in and around Port Building 2 and Train Building. We’ve seen nothing in or out of Port 1 for nearly twenty hours.”
Again silence filled the room. Finally Khadi said softly, “You know, having him out there and not knowing how he is-it’s almost more than I can handle.”
Hicks slammed his hand down on the table. “We need something! Al-’Aqran hasn’t given us a thing, no matter how hard I’ve leaned on him. Our surveillance hasn’t given us a thing. Tara’s nutcases back at the ROU haven’t given us a thing. We’ve got to get something soon! Otherwise, I swear we’re just going to split our team in three and try all of the buildings at once. But without better information, that could be suicide.”
Scott’s phone rang again. Khadi and Hicks began talking over new options while Scott answered the phone. “Ross here… You’re serious? Right up to you? But how…? Not good… Well, it makes sense, unfortunately. Okay, call the rover car to take over surveillance of Train Building, but obviously from a different vantage. You get yourself and your little surprise back here ASAP. And make sure no one follows you. Capisce?” He ended the call and put the phone on the table. “Well, I think we may have just gotten our break.”
Hicks and Khadi immediately ended their conversation and gave their full attention to Scott.
“It seems that a young man walked up to our surveillance van near Train Building. He said something like, ‘You touch me, we kill him. This is your football man.’ Then he handed Kim Li and Steve Kasay a vinyl gym bag. Inside the bag is a videotape. I’m betting we’ve got the makings of some sort of trade for Mr. Scorpion.”
“But how did they know our guys were there?” Jim asked.
“I think our contact probably told them,” Scott replied.
“Our contact?” Khadi said. “But he’s been nothing but loyal. What makes you think that he’s the one who gave our position away?”
“Because his head was in the bag with the tape.”
Steve Kasay came into the house through the back door, carrying the videotape. Kim Li followed close behind. Thankfully, they had left the gym bag, along with the rest of its contents, out back. The senders of the video had extended them the courtesy of placing the tape in a plastic bag, which Kasay now deposited into an evidence bag for safekeeping. He handed the tape to a waiting Scott, then went to the sink and began thoroughly scrubbing every wrinkle and crease of his hands.
Khadi, Hicks, Skeeter, and Li gathered around the monitor, while Scott slipped the tape into a high-tech VCR. This machine would convert the analog signal to a digital stream while the tape was playing. When the first pass of the tape was completed, the digital copy would be uploaded and sent to Tara’s team in St. Louis for analysis.
Scott pressed Play.
Immediately everyone gasped except Skeeter, who unconsciously broke the glass he was holding in his hand.
The video showed Riley sitting in a dimly lit room, naked except for his boxers. He was tied to his chair, and blood could be seen staining the area where the cords were wrapped around his ankles. He had some obvious bruises to his upper body, and the left side of his face was badly swollen. A thin red line had been sliced across his chest and another down his right side. Two men stood with him, one on each side, their faces covered by black nylon masks. Both wore military fatigues. The man to Riley’s left carried a long knife. The man on his right held a piece of paper-a script, Scott thought-in Riley’s line of sight.