“Andie has actually turned me into a pretty good shot. But this is the U.K., not Texas. Not the place to risk arrest for carrying a concealed weapon.”
“Suit yourself.” He put the pistol away and locked the drawer. “Any questions about the cell phone?”
“Just one,” said Jack. “How long has Chuck had that same spyware on my cell?”
“Good one, Yank,” he said, smiling and shaking his head as he led Jack out of his office. “That’s a real good one.”
Chapter Seventy-one
The Dark slept not at all, which was a normal night for him. He would sleep on the plane to Hong Kong after the money was in hand and Paulo was dead.
Last-minute changes to the plan had necessitated another trip to the storage shed. That little unit would have been the envy of al-Shabaab, had he still been loyal to them. Somewhere down the road, when the bodies were recovered and the Dark was on the other side of the globe, Scotland Yard would uncover the cache, and the Western media would report that another Muslim was preparing for jihad. As if every jihad involved war and violence. As if this struggle had anything to do with Allah.
The Dark stopped at the corner. Sunrise was still hours away, and it was cold enough to see his breath. Morning rush hour was just barely beginning, a few cars streaming by. A man and a woman huddled beneath the shelter at the bus stop. The nearest tube station didn’t open until five thirty A.M., but an hour from now waves of commuters would flood into the underground like water into a storm sewer. The Dark was eight blocks from the abandoned hotel, just in case anyone was triangulating his wireless call and trying to pinpoint his location. Chuck Mays’ cell was on his speed dial. He punched “8” and waited.
“I’m here,” said Chuck.
“Is Shada in or out?”
“She’s in.”
The Dark smiled thinly. “I knew she would be. Now listen closely, because I’m not going to repeat this. Shada must come alone. Tell her to take the money to Billingsgate Fish Market.”
“The fish market?”
“Just listen. I know Shada a hell of a lot better than you ever did, and I’m being very reasonable about setting up the exchange in a public place. The fish market is probably the busiest place in London this early. Hundreds of people around, so there’s no reason for her to get scared of her own shadow and freak out. The ground floor has two cafes. Shada is to find the one nearer to the shellfish boiler room, take a seat, and wait.”
“When do we get Vince back?”
“When I get the money. Understood?”
“Yes, but-”
“No ‘buts.’ ”
“But you-”
“Quiet! Do you want your friend dead or alive?”
“You said I could talk to Vince in the morning.”
The Dark gripped the phone, angered by the audacity. “There’s plenty of morning left,” he said, seething as he ended the call.
For some of us.
He tucked the phone away and started back to the hotel.
Jack’s cell rang as he stepped out of the Curry House’s storage room.
The Web conference following the Dark’s ransom demand had gone exactly as Chuck and Reza had choreographed it. Shada was ready to make the delivery. Jack would tail her-after he took this phone call.
He ducked into Reza’s office and answered it.
“It’s me,” said Andie. “First thing I want to say is that I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For pressuring you to drop the Jamal Wakefield case.”
There was a knock, and then Jack heard Reza’s voice on the other side of the closed door. “We have to go, my friend.”
“Andie, don’t worry about it,” said Jack. “We can talk when I get home.”
“No, you don’t understand. When I found out that you were trying to prove the existence of a black site, I had no idea that I was investigating the same black site that was at the end of your trail.”
Jack’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“It’s complicated, and I’m so angry with the bureau right now that I can hardly stand it. But you were representing Jamal ever since he was Khaled al-Jawar, Prisoner No. 977 at Gitmo. Obviously, the FBI knew he was really Jamal Wakefield, which means they knew his lawyers would eventually get into the issue of black sites in Prague. It was no coincidence that I was given this assignment. Someone high up thought they could play the national security card and pressure me into compromising your case. Or at least throw you off the trail of the black site in Prague, if need be.”
Jack lowered himself into the desk chair. He was having trouble getting his head around this one. “Wow. Andie, it’s five thirty in the morning here, I’ve hardly slept, and… just, wow.”
There was another knock at the door. “Jack,” said Reza, “we really have to go.”
“Andie, this is all good to know,” said Jack. “But I-”
“Good to know?” said Andie, incredulous. “Jack, I could be fired for telling you this. But here’s the point. I don’t know what exactly you’re doing over there in London, but you need to know that the people who ran this black site are beyond evil. Don’t kid yourself into thinking otherwise. Please, please, don’t take unnecessary chances.”
The door opened, and Reza stuck his head into the room. “Hang up the phone. We’re leaving.”
Andie asked, “Who was that?”
Jack hesitated too long, but Andie’s tone changed abruptly. “I gotta go,” she said. “Be careful, Jack. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he said, and the call ended.
Chapter Seventy-two
The Black Ice limo cruised through the night at forty miles per hour, top speed in a snowstorm like the one that was slamming the Mid-Atlantic region. Andie glanced out the dark-tinted windows. She’d seen few cars on the road tonight, virtually none since they’d exited the expressway. Bahena had told her that they were headed for the airport, but she had her doubts.
“Doesn’t look like a good night to fly,” she said.
Littleton didn’t answer. He was seated across from her, facing forward. Andie was in the other bench seat with her back to the cockpit. The chauffer’s partition behind her head was closed, leaving her and Littleton in privacy. They were forty minutes into the drive, and he had yet to speak a word to her.
Not a good sign.
Andie had ended the phone call with Jack in the nick of time, before Bahena had come around with the company limo. She’d made riskier calls while working undercover, and this one should have gone undetected. But she was beginning to have doubts.
The limo slowed, then pulled off the road to a stop. Andie glanced out the window. They were outside the glow of city lights, nowhere near an airport-nowhere near anything she recognized.
“Why are we stopping?” she asked.
Littleton stared at her, his face illuminated only by the dim, blue glow of the liquor cabinet to Andie’s right.
