He dipped his chin once.
Faith took her sister’s hands and held them in front of her chest. “I...”
Devlin spun toward her.
“...I heard about Blake.” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Jess. I really liked him. He was a good man.”
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
.
Chapter 21
Shell Game
1:51 P.M.
“Since you’re a little behind in recent developments, Mr. Randall, allow me to bring you up to speed on what’s transpired in the last twenty-four hours.” Sitting behind her desk wearing a knee-length navy-blue skirt suit with matching high heels and a white blouse, Deputy Director Marissa Thorn spun her black executive chair ninety degrees to starboard and crossed her legs at the knee.
The fifty-three-year-old woman was single, had never been married, and did not have any children. A twenty-year veteran of the Marshals Service, her time equally split as a deputy marshal and marshal, Thorn had assumed her current position barely a day ahead of Devlin being promoted to United States Marshal, both women receiving their job offers from the President himself.
Thorn’s stellar career record, which included many arrests of criminals on the U.S. Marshals Service 15 Most Wanted Fugitives list, had made the President’s decision an easy one.
On the other side of the desk, Devlin and Faith sat in straight-back chairs, the older woman on the right. Behind them, still wearing his grubby suit that sported dirt stains and speckles of dried blood, Randall stood with his hands in his pockets.
Three minutes ago, after Devlin and Faith had shared a few tears over Blake Hawkins’ death, Devlin and Randall had been summoned to Deputy Director Thorn’s office. Faith had tagged along with the two agents.
Now, her elbows on the chair’s armrests, Thorn tapped her fingertips together. “Since Jessica was able to get the tail numbers on Crane’s jet, we’ve been tracking that flight. Its original destination was Casablanca, Morocco; however, the plane made two separate changes to its flight plan while over the Atlantic.”
Devlin looked up at Randall. “After the second in-flight deviation—which was to England—the aircraft’s transponder went out. When it came back on, it showed the plane in Troms, Norway.”
Randall cocked his head. “I assume we contacted the Norwegian authorities?”
“We did. But, by the time we were able to get the police over there involved, the jet had already re-fueled and taken off again.”
“Destination?”
“Casablanca.”
“And the pilot was asked why he shut off the transponder?”
Devlin lifted a shoulder. “He claims he never did.”
“Huh.” Randall scratched his chin. “This is looking like a shell game.” He faced Thorn. “Silly question, but I take it our man wasn’t on the plane when it landed in Casablanca?”
The DD shook her head. “Just a father, a mother, and two kids starting a weeklong family vacation in Morocco.”
“Well,” Randall spread his arms wide, laid hands on the backs of the two chairs in front of him, and listed forward, “at least we have a place to start our search.”
Scrunching their eyebrows, Devlin and Faith lifted their noses a bit before simultaneously wrinkling them at his suit.
“I’ve been in contact with members of the U.S. Intelligence Community, but it hasn’t been easy.” Thorn huffed. “Apparently, the higher-ups over there hadn’t received the memo on just who I am.” She paused while recalling her heated phone conversations with representatives from those various agencies. “But they know who I am now.”
Facing Thorn and drawing a fresh breath, Devlin suppressed a chuckle. She knew her boss’s propensity for shedding her professional decorum when the woman thought she was being disrespected. “I’m sure they do, ma’am.”
Faith crossed her right leg over her left and sloped away from the man hovering a foot from her right shoulder.
“Anyway,” Thorn removed her black spectacles, tossed them onto the desk, and stood, her three-inch heels bringing her height up to five-eleven, “we’re working in concert with Norwegian Intelligence to find Crane.” She made her way to the other side of the desk, sat back, and rested palms on the furniture’s edge before crossing her ankles. “I’m told I’ll be informed as soon as our Intelligence Community knows something.”
Randall rose to his full height. “I have a number of contacts in the CIA, ma’am.”
The DD looked up at him.
He noted her thin build, smooth, dark-toned skin, and dark hair, the same length as Devlin’s hair. If he had not known the woman’s true age, he would have thought she was in her mid-forties. “If you don’t mind, I can make some calls and see what they’re hearing through back channels, and from their assets.”
Squinting, she puckered her lips.
“Since Crane has a head start on us, it might speed up the process and help us catch up.”
Thorn mulled his offer for a few seconds before nodding. “Keep it casual, though. I’m new to this high level of intelligence gathering. And, as such, I don’t want my counterparts in the IC thinking I’m already going around them.”
“Understood.”
She glimpsed Devlin and Randall. “You two better gear up. I have a jet on standby at Reagan International. I want you on that plane as soon as we have any kind of actionable Intel.”
Faith put both feet on the floor. “I’ll be ready to go, too, ma’am.”
After eyeing Faith for a couple seconds, Thorn regarded Devlin.
Devlin lifted eyebrows.
Thorn shook her head. “You won’t get any pushback from me. The President was clear. I’m in charge of logistics and intelligence gathering, and you make the calls in the field. You can deputize anyone you want.” She pivoted her head toward the other woman. “I don’t believe I’ve said this, but...I’m very glad to see you’re doing well, Faith.”
“Thank you, Deputy Director.”
Thorn smiled. “I’m not your boss. Please call me Marissa.”
“Thank you, Marissa.”
*******
MINUTES LATER...
After Devlin and Randall had completed a few administrative duties with Thorn, the duo, and Faith, had left the deputy director and were now on their way to Devlin’s office.
Trailing behind the women, Randall glanced over his shoulder and peeped at Thorn through her office windows. “For some reason, she’s hard to read. But it seems—”
“Even for a
