“We’ve got a surveillance team on the way,” Deion said, “but if the deal is about to go down, we need someone there.” He leaned towards the video camera, the anticipation evident. “I’ll take Nancy, Martin, and Johnson and we’ll wrap this up before you get back.”
Eric turned to John, asleep in his reclining chair, oblivious to the conference call. “Can it wait? I want to be on that mission.”
Deion shook his head, his grin bigger. “Not enough time. You’re ten hours out. We can be there in two. Authorize it. The plane is already loaded, we’ll be wheels up in twenty.”
“It makes sense,” Clark said, nodding. “Surely they can handle one man?”
“It’s not one man I’m worried about,” Eric said. “You’ve no idea who he’s meeting.”
“You won’t make it in time,” Nancy said. “We have this.”
He hated to admit it, but she was right. Deion was a fine operative, and Nancy could hold her own in a firefight. Plus, he trusted Taylor Martin and Roger Johnson. They were good Operators. They could handle themselves. “Fine, but keep me looped in. Get Jakobs and get that caesium.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
They touched down at Carswell AFB, on the outskirts of Ft. Worth. Deion rubbed the bullet wound on his arm. It didn’t make him unfit for duty, but he took another pain patch from his pocket, peeled the old one off, then pressed the new one in its place. The lingering pain eased by the time they taxied to the hangar and unloaded the vans.
Nancy, Martin and Johnson waited, eager to go.
“Look, we all know what this is about,” Deion said. “Don’t make any mistakes. It’s one racist redneck from Colorado. He’s not much of a threat. The important thing is to keep that caesium out of the wrong hands, which is anybody but us.”
He paired up with Nancy in the first van while Martin and Johnson followed them east through the city. They eventually found the restaurant parking lot, across from the Motel 6, and met up with their surveillance team, Brad and Nikki.
Deion gave them the once over as they entered the van. Nobody would mistake them for agents. Brad wore jean-shorts and a faded Iron Maiden t-shirt, and his wife, Nikki, was dressed in white denim shorts and a stained pink halter top. They looked no older than twenty, but Deion knew they had worked deep undercover for the Dallas PD before the Office recruited them, and dozens more like them, in each major city.
“The target left, went to Denny’s behind the motel, then returned to his room,” Brad said.
“No phone calls since the last one?” Deion asked.
“No,” Nikki said, “he’s kept the curtain shut, we can’t get eyes inside.” She pointed across the street to the Motel 6 parking lot. “See the brown F-150 with the dirty topper? He’s got cardboard over the back windows. Whatever’s in the back, he doesn’t want anybody to see.”
“Did you put a tracker on him?” Nancy asked.
“Yeah, we tagged his truck while he ate,” Nikki said.
“What’d you use?” Deion asked.
“An XB-10,” Brad said.
Deion knew the unit, no bigger than a silver dollar. It had a day of battery life. He dismissed the couple who quickly left. “Here’s the play,” he said to Nancy. “We follow him wherever he goes, wait to see who shows up, then take them down.”
Nancy shook her head. “I disagree. We go in now, take him, and get the caesium.”
“Relax,” Deion said. “We can take them all at once.” He settled back in his seat, watching the dumpy blue motel. “We’ll take Jakobs and be home before the sun goes down.”
Nancy grunted.
“How long before he leaves?” Martin asked through the ear-piece. “This bar and grill across the street smells good.”
“Quit your bitching,” Deion said. “You’ve got a thermos full of coffee, I saw Roger load it. That’ll have to do.”
Martin snickered and Deion grinned. He watched Nancy out of the corner of his eye. She was staring at the motel room, her body tense. He reached up and turned off the mic on his ear-piece, then pointed for her to do the same. “What’s up with you?” he asked.
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
He could tell she had no interest in pursuing the conversation, but he had to try. “We haven’t spoken about Afghanistan, and now you’re wound tighter than a clockspring. What’s up?”
“I’m not….” She turned to him. “Look, I’m kind of fucked up, emotionally. Maybe it was my childhood. That’s always the easy answer. Maybe it’s because I’m not even thirty but I feel like an old woman. Maybe I just need to get laid. Who knows.” She turned back to the motel. “I’ll do the job.”
He considered his words, then went for it. “You scare me. You’re not like any woman I’ve ever met. You’re a trained killer, like John, but at least Eric watches out for John. You don’t have anybody to protect you, except your dad. It couldn’t have been easy. I mean, he probably low-jacked you at birth.”
Nancy’s icy blue eyes softened. “You have no idea. There’s something else, though. I think my father asked Eric to keep an eye on me.”
Not surprising. “The Old Man thinks you need protected?”
“He won’t say it. Actually, I think he wants me to fall for Eric.”
Deion considered it. Eric was a straight-shooter, a good looking guy if Deion had to admit, and maybe the Old Man thought he would be a stabilizing influence. “Sounds cold. You gonna let that happen?”
“There’s no letting it happen,” Nancy said. “It’s like being set up on a date. I resent it. I told Eric what my father intended, there’s no way he would have anything to do with me now.”
Deion shrugged. “You both got your heads on straight. It could be trouble if you two were involved, giving what we do. Might make things…complicated.”
Nancy looked wistfully off in the distance. “That’s one thing I’m not. I don’t have a life. Just the job.” She flicked on her ear-piece and focused her attention back on Jakobs’s motel room.
Deion nodded. He understood. The same focus cost him his relationship with Val. He turned on his ear-piece and sank back in the van’s seat, waiting for Jakobs to leave.
Abdullah directed Manny through the McDonald’s parking lot. Manny circled the building and Abdullah saw Ahmed waiting patiently in a Toyota Camry. “There,” he motioned.
Manny eased the Taurus next to the Camry. Abdullah turned to him. “I would like to thank you for your help. I am sorry for your loss.”
Manny turned away, face flushed. “I promised to get you here. There’s your ride. We’re done.”
Abdullah wanted to comfort Manny for his loss, but nothing he could say would ease the pain. He knew that better than anyone.
He gathered his bag and watched the young man speed off, then got in the Camry and shook hands with Ahmed. He had last seen Ahmed as a young boy, no older than thirteen, the wisps of hair just appearing on his chin, but the boy had finally filled out, lean and wiry, now sporting a dense black. “It is good to see you again.”
“I am glad to see you, too, sir, but I have bad news. We received word this morning. Naseer is dead.”
His heart sank. Dead? He had said goodbye to his student just two days before, sending him back to Kandahar to lead the Mujahideen in a battle against Azim. “How?”