“Better yet,” Deric interjected, “if we do anything that you find suspicious, just ask. We’ll be happy to explain it to you.” He sighed and gave the guard his best tired but bored look. “Just let us do our jobs.”
The second guard nodded to the first. “Keep us apprised of your steps. We may not understand everything, but…like I said, it’s protocol.”
“Very well.” Deric picked up the tool bag and slid it closer to the rear wall. He pulled the Phillips screwdriver again and held it up, showing it to the guard. “Screwdriver. To remove the cover so we can see the guts…”
The man rolled his eyes and stepped back, giving the pair access.
Jim keyed his coms covertly then turned to Deric. “This may be take a while.”
“Copy that,” Gregg’s whispered reply hissed in his ear.
Near Langley, VA
RYAN PULLED THE black Suburban to the side of the road near an empty garage and killed the engine. He nodded to Steve, who keyed his radio. “In position.”
Gregg’s voice sounded tinny over the handheld. “Stand by fellas. Bravo one is on sight and occupied. Bravos two and three are being held up by security personnel.” He sighed and stretched his neck. “Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em fellas. It’s liable to be a long night.”
“Great. And Jay made us wear Fed clothes,” Ryan groaned as he leaned the seat back.
Steve pointed to the gravel road. “They should be coming through there when they arrive.”
Ryan nodded. “Should we unlock the garage now or…”
Steve shrugged. “I got it.” He stepped out of the SUV and made his way carefully to the garage. He pulled out the keys and opened the padlock on the front doors, pulling them slightly open.
When he climbed back into the truck, he tossed the keys into the console. “If it were me, I’d dump those dirtbikes in the ditch and write them off.”
Ryan shook his head. “Then they’d know they switched vehicles.” He stretched and yawned, then checked his watch. “Better to have them think that they’re stuck on two wheels a little longer.”
Steve groaned and pulled his smart phone from his jacket pocket.
“What are you doing?”
He held it up and showed Ryan. “Tetris.”
“Dude, turn that shit off. You know they can track it.”
Steve smiled at him. “This is a burner smart phone. Pay by the month. And I put it in the NSA Deputy Director’s name, so…”
“I swear I’m working with a twelve year old.”
Steve nodded as he mashed the buttons. “We both do, but Gregg has skills so we keep him around.”
Langley, VA
“YOU NEED A shower.”
Darren Chesterfield turned and glared at the woman standing in his doorway. “What are you doing here? Again.”
Brenda Weston stepped inside his office and handed him a file. “My boss wanted you to have this.”
“What is it?” Darren tossed it to his desk, ignoring it.
Brenda crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him, one brow raised. “Why don’t you at least look at it and see for yourself.”
Darren gave her a challenging stare then reached for the file. “Who is your boss?”
“You don’t have the need to know.”
He smirked at her then opened the file. Grainy pictures of Bridger and his cohorts taken from above were scattered within. “I already know what they look like.” He closed the file and tossed it aside again.
“I’m sure you do. But do you know what they look like when they’re sneaking out of Karachi on a private jet?”
He stiffened and turned to face her, the color draining from his face. “When?” He snatched the folder back and scattered the photos across his desk, his eyes scanning for a time and date code.
“Yesterday. While you were having your operatives kick down the doors to our safe houses in the area…and letting all of the bad guys know where they were in the process, these guys were somewhere across the Atlantic sipping mojitos and getting blowjobs.” She crossed her arms and smiled at him smugly. “You’ll notice they brought a friend. I could be wrong, but it almost looks like Muhammed al-Abadi riding their coattails.”
Darren collapsed in his chair then turned and glared at her. “When did you get these?”
She shrugged. “I just got them a little bit ago. I have no idea when my boss got them.” She turned for the door and gave him a slight wave. “He just thought you’d like to know where your prime suspect and scapegoat isn’t.” She paused at the door and gave him a cute smile. “And they ‘isn’t’ in Pakistan.”
She slipped out and left him with his guts twisted. He stared at the photos and felt his legs go weak under him. As he stared at the images, his phone began to ring. He almost didn’t answer, but he was nothing if not a creature of habit.
“Yes?”
“You need to be in my office five minutes ago.”
Darren stiffened and stared at the phone. “Yes, sir. I’ll be there in a moment, Colonel.”
Karachi, Pakistan
BASSIM AL-AHMED paced the small office of Asma Abu Faqir, tossing items aside and upending the furniture as he ranted. “Never trust a woman!”
One of his men grunted as he carried the large canvas duffels into the office and dumped them to the floor. “She had gold.”
Bassim tore open the tops and peered inside. “Not nearly equal to what we paid her.”
“Surely she will tell you where the money is.” The man smiled under his mask.
Bassim kicked her chair away and pushed the few remaining items from the top of her desk. He sat down heavily and stroked the AK-47 strapped across his shoulder. “I should have killed her when she missed the first deadline.”
The minion leaned against the doorjamb. “I believe she is still breathing. We could wake her.”
Bassim pushed off of the desk and brushed past his man. “Where is she?”
“The kitchen.” The minion fell into
