“If it was me,” Fahad said with a shrug, “no way would I come back. You gotta consider the flat compromised.”
“Depends,” DeSantos said, “on what he left behind and how important it is. Remember, risk is not an issue for them. A lot of these guys are suicide bombers.”
Fahad’s jaw tightened. “I don’t need reminding, Hector.”
“I think you do. Because we can’t afford fuckups. And so far I’m not too impressed with your performance. If we’re going to trust our lives to—”
“Another time,” Vail said. “We need to get our shit together and get out.”
DeSantos shook his head in disgust. The sun was beginning its rise, the sky brightening — which meant they did not have much time.
“You two go take positions outside, one out front, one out back. You see the asshole come back, let us know.” DeSantos gave Fahad a hard look. “Think you can do that?”
Fahad stared back but did not answer.
“Karen, anything that doesn’t look kosher, ring us.”
“Right.” They left as Uzi continued clacking away at the keys. “Quick and dirty sit-rep?”
“Two got away, two dead. Did the best to dispose of the bodies but like I said, they’re going to be found. Matter of time.” He pulled out the phones. “But I got photos and prints. You?”
“Hacked the PC. Close to decrypting some of their documents. I have a feeling we’ll get some good intel.”
DeSantos went about printing the latents on the phone screens, then sent the data to Meadows along with the images of the two deceased men. He had no idea if they would get a hit, but he asked Meadows to check with Interpol as well. He hoped they were in the system somewhere, for something illegal. When dealing with foreign countries, the results were less certain. In some places, bribes were paid; in others, police work was inconsistent.
DeSantos packed his duffel and went through the flat, removing signs of their presence. “How much longer?”
“Got one decrypted. Reading it now—” Uzi leaned in close to the screen and cursed. “They’re planning something all right. On MI5, with osmium tetroxide.”
“What?” DeSantos came up beside him. “Osmium tetroxide isn’t stable. MI5 got wind of an attack several years ago. It never got off the ground because the stuff was very expensive and they couldn’t find a way of stabilizing the chemical.”
“Looks like they solved that problem. And unless we do something about it—” Uzi checked his watch—“they’re going to launch an assault on MI5 HQ in fifty-nine minutes — just after everyone’s arrived for work.”
“Can you decrypt the rest on the fly?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Pack up whatever shit you need. We’re outta here in two minutes, no more.”
DeSantos pulled his phone and texted Vail and Fahad, told them to meet at their cars in three minutes, and he’d brief them en route to their destination.
“Destination?” Vail messaged back.
DeSantos ignored it as he gathered up his duffel, gave a final wipe-down to Uzi’s keyboard, and shut the lights. They walked out the door ten seconds later.
40
“We’ve got fifty-five minutes,” Vail said as she fastened her seatbelt. “But do we have a plan?”
Uzi tapped away at his laptop keyboard. “The plan is to prevent the attack on MI5.”
“And how are we going to do that?”
“Haven’t gotten that far.”
A moment later, DeSantos pulled up alongside their car. “Follow me.”
“And do what?”
“We’ll figure it out on the way.” He rolled up his window and headed off down the road.
Vail followed a safe distance behind. “I think we should call Buck.”
Uzi leaned closer to the screen. “Can’t. You heard what Knox said.”
She ruminated on that a bit. Buck was not a likely ally, but faced with intel of an imminent attack on the security service’s headquarters, he would have to take action, right? Maybe not. He had not listened when Knox told him he had credible information that Qadir Yaseen and Tahir Aziz were on UK soil. Or had he? Perhaps he did check it out and could not verify Knox’s claims. What would Knox have done if the situation were reversed?
“I think we should tell him.”
Uzi shrugged a shoulder, still pecking away at his laptop. “Call Santa, make your case.”
Vail dialed DeSantos, no longer concerned about driving while holding her phone. She got through her first sentence before he cut her off.
“Too risky. If our intel is bad, we’re really in the shit. Do I have to remind you what happened last time we were here? We may not get out of the UK again without serious prison time — not to mention their new terrorism laws. Can’t take the chance.”
“There are a shitload of people working in those buildings. If it’s a legitimate threat, we can’t just let the attack go down without doing something.”
“We will do something. I just haven’t figured out what yet.”
“What about Reid and Carter?” She was referring to two MI5 agents, Clive Reid and Ethan Carter, who partnered with Vail and DeSantos when they were on an island, literally and figuratively, on the run from law enforcement.
There was silence. She figured DeSantos was working it through, weighing the potential problems — she could think of a few herself — against other options, which, likely, included doing nothing.
“Obviously, since you’re suggesting it,” he said, “you feel pretty confident they won’t try to screw us over. I mean, I got to know them, but you knew them a lot better.”
“I know Reid and yeah, I think he’s a standup guy. He knows what we were up against, that we were trying to do the right thing.”
Uzi looked up from his keyboard. “No one can guarantee the actions of another. You sure about this?”
Am I sure? If I tell them no — which would be the truth — they’ll back off. But I can’t sit by and not do something. She glanced at the clock: forty-three minutes left.
“Yes.”
“Fine,” DeSantos said. “You still have Reid’s number?”
“I can get it.” She hung up and turned to Uzi. Can you get me a phone number?” She told him which Metropolitan Police station she needed to call — the one that Vail temporarily worked out of when she first met Reid. A moment later, he was reading her the string of digits.
She rang through and got a duty clerk who sounded as bored as he probably was. Doing her best to speak in a regional British accent — but saying as little as possible because she knew the more words she spoke the greater the risk her faux dialect would be laid bare. “I need to reach Inspector Reid. Problem with his nephew Brant. He’s in a spot of trouble. I’m the headmistress here and he said I should call his uncle, a copper by the name of Reid.” She chuckled. “He said he’s a detective chief inspector. As if I believe that.”
The clerk cleared his throat. “Well, right that, he is. Can you wait while I put the ring up on hold?”
Uh, I have no idea what you said. “Of course.”
“He’s in the building, I think. Just started his shift.”
“That I can.”
Uzi gave her a look. Clearly, he was not as impressed with Vail’s efforts as she was.
A moment later, the muffling of a phone receiver, a muted, “What? I don’t—” He stopped, then into the handset, said: “This is DCI Reid. Who’s this?”
“Reid, it’s your old buddy, the one you can never seem to face straight on. You always see me in profile. Know what I mean?” She didn’t want to say any more over an open line.