Bobby nodded. “Stick with Plan A?”
“That’s the idea. But I’m good with dropping the whole shebang in their laps once we’re safely away.”
Steve patted his shoulder as he walked by. “I’ll get with Gregg and see if he can’t create a data bomb that goes off once we’re out of their air space.”
Bobby glanced at his watch and sighed. “I’m wondering where Roger is about now?”
“Probably over a lot of water.” Jay squeezed his shoulder. “It was the right call to get him away from this mess.”
“Maybe. But he’s still a marked man.”
Langley, VA
AGENT CHESTERFIELD BROKE into a dead run and nearly took the heavy door off of its hinges at his office. He reached for the phone and began dialing before his butt hit the chair.
“Get me the State Department.” He bit the end of the pen in his mouth then pulled it out. “Of course I know what time it is! Get me somebody, NOW!”
He sat back in his chair and stared at his reflection in the computer screen. Either the screen distorted his appearance or he really and truly looked like shit.
“Yes, this is Chesterfield. I need to amend the international BOLO for the Baba Yaga group.” He listened intently before his call was forwarded to the group that could assist.
“This is State. ID number please.”
Darren scrambled to find the operation ID and read it over the phone slowly. Once the ID was verified, he amended the notification. “Let it be known that the Baba Yaga group are not wanted as suspects for the explosion in Karachi this afternoon. However, it is believed by intelligence agencies that they may be harboring Muhammed al-Abadi. Abadi is the suspected mastermind behind the attack in Karachi that led to the deaths of…yes.” He listened as the State Department envoy read back the changes. He nodded, a smile forming across his features. “That’s right. Baba Yaga and Bridger may be hired muscle for Abadi.”
Darren made a few notes then hung up the phone. He sat back in his chair and rocked side to side. “Check and mate, Deputy Director Ingram…you prick.”
“I’ve been called many things, but never a prick to my face.”
Darren spun in his chair, his eyes wide. “Deputy Director, I was…I just…uh…”
“Relax Chesterfield.” Ingram pulled the door shut and leaned against the wall. “If I hammered everybody who expressed their dislike for me, half of my agency would be nails in the wall.”
Darren swallowed hard and slowly came to his feet. “W-what can I do for you, sir?”
Ingram pushed off of the wall and slowly approached the man’s desk. He peered past him and tried to read the notes he had jotted. “I’m curious what your ‘check and mate’ might be.”
“Oh.” Darren slowly smiled and took his seat again. “I dug my way out of the hole. You said that this whole operation was my fuck up…well, I just unfucked it.”
“How did you do that?” Ingram paused at the corner of his desk and eyed him cautiously.
“At first I panicked, I’ll admit it. I screwed the pooch. But I corrected that mistake.”
Ingram sat on the corner of the desk and continued to stare at him. “And how did you do that?”
“I initially put out an International BOLO for Bridger and his thug buddies.” Chesterfield smiled to himself for his creativity. “But considering that the media over there are already blaming the flag burning casualties to the factory explosion, and everybody over there knows that Abadi is an arms dealer; it only makes sense that he was behind the creation of the factory and is, therefore, responsible.”
“I’m not seeing how you fixed anything.”
Darren smiled and came to his feet, stretching out the knots in his shoulders. “I amended the BOLO to clarify that Baba Yaga is not wanted in relation to the events of today, but that we believe they are harboring Abadi…and that’s the fellow we want. Because obviously he’s the one responsible for what happened today.”
Ingram smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. He shook his head slowly and stood from the corner of the desk. “And you think that is your check and mate?” He shook his head more firmly. “Until you have Bridger, the BYI guys, and Abadi in custody, you’ve got nothing.” He stepped toward the door and reached for the handle. “I hate to burst your bubble Chesterfield, but it’s still a royal fuck fest and you’re still the one on the line for it.”
He pulled the door open and stepped out of the office. “I hope you have a spare set of balls laying around. You’re going to need them.”
Karachi, Pakistan
MAMOON UL-RASHEED waded through the stream of bodies lining the hallways of the Emergency Room. He stood on his tip toes and could just see the top of Sameer’s head. He pushed and prodded his way past the wailing families and shocked faces of those who survived the attack.
“Sameer!” Mamoon yelled, waving at the man. “Where is he?”
A strong hand gripped Mamoon’s arm and pulled him aside. He jerked at the grip and turned to stare at Balil’s stern face. He pulled the man into a room and glanced about at the faces staring at them. “He is downstairs.”
Mamoon stared at him, curiously. “There are no rooms downstairs…” The realization dawned on him and he felt his legs go weak. Sameer appeared in the doorway and quickly grabbed at him, holding him up.
“He is in the morgue, Mamoon.” Sameer’s voice sounded almost devoid of emotion. His throat was hoarse from screaming and he sounded like he had gargled with broken glass.
Mamoon turned haunted eyes to his two employees and shook his head. “This cannot be.”
Sameer planted a hand on either side of his head and turned Mamoon to face him. “He is gone. I saw him myself.”
Mamoon felt his legs go out from under him and Balil pulled him deeper into the
