the ramp, Drake had a full frontal view of the car’s passengers. Through the Zeiss lens, he could clearly see the face of each person. So far, he didn’t recognize any of them.
Just before 9:00 a.m., two black Suburbans turned into the parking lot and headed toward the underground parking ramp. Drake sat taller as he focused on the driver of each SUV. None of the men looked familiar, although the Suburbans were identical to the Suburban that came to his farm, minus the gold ISIS logo.
By 10:00 a.m., Drake still hadn’t seen the black Mercedes SLS roadster he thought the ISIS manager was driving. The roadster had been parked in the only reserved spot, and had to belong to Kaamil. He was the only one Drake had met with an ego big enough to drive the powerful and expensive car. If anyone was going to show him what ISIS was up to, it would be its manager.
Drake was so caught up with his surveillance of ISIS that he almost forgot to let his secretary know where he was. With one hand, he scrolled to his office number and called Margo.
“I didn’t want you to worry, but I may not be coming in today. I’m looking into the security company Martin Research uses. Not sure how long I’m going to be tied up. If you need to reach me, though, I’ll be available.”
“This is a new pattern, you not coming in, and calling me after the fact. Does this have something to do with that goon waiting outside yesterday?”
“I don’t know, maybe. I had some trouble at the farm last night. It might be better if you didn’t go out a lot until I get back. Let Paul know you’re alone in the office today. I’ll explain when I get back. If you get a call from Detective Carson, or a Liz Strobel, from the Department of Homeland Security, give them my cell phone number. Otherwise, just take a message on the rest of the calls. Tell them I’ll call them back next week.”
“What’s going on, Adam? I don’t like what I’m hearing.”
“Everything is going to be all right, Margo. Just make sure you know anyone you let in the office. Wait for me to report in. I should be finished with this by sometime this afternoon.”
He hated making her worry, and he didn’t want to involve her any more than he had to. If the Secret Service couldn’t keep things quiet for a little longer, Margo would bear the brunt of the initial questioning. The less she knew the better. He didn’t think she was in any danger, but if she had to be somewhere, she was safe in his office. The office had steel doors with electronic locks, both front and rear, and she could monitor the surveillance cameras.
For now, all he could do was sit and watch. If ISIS was involved, someone was going to get nervous when their boys didn’t report. Maybe they would do something that would lead him to whoever was responsible for the murders.
While he watched the ISIS building, he turned on the radio and took a bottle of water from his gym bag. It was going to be a long day. He settled back and turned on the news. What he heard made him sit up and crank up the volume.
You smart SOBs, Drake thought. If you don’t know what’s happened to your men, get the media involved. Claim the police are responsible and let the police do the work for you. Since 9/11, no one wanted to be accused of discriminating against Muslims. Even if there was evidence the men he’d killed were terrorists and posed a threat to the Secretary of DHS, Strobel wouldn’t be able to hold off a police inquiry for long.
He had less time now to find out what the hell was going on. It was almost 11:00 a.m. He hadn’t seen anyone of interest, coming or going into the ISIS building. He’d give it another hour, and then he would have to figure out another way to get inside ISIS.
At 11:15 a.m., a black Suburban pulled out of the underground garage and turned east on SW Meadows Road toward Lake Oswego. Drake decided to let it go. It was just a hunch, but everything involving Martin Research was located to the west. He didn’t think Kaamil would drive one of the Suburbans when he could take his roadster. The black SLS was a driver’s car, and there was no reason to choose a glorified station wagon over a real car, if you had the choice.
At the bottom of the hour, Drake watched the second black Suburban leave the parking garage and turn west. Just before it turned out of the ISIS lot, Drake caught a glimpse of the driver and decided to wait a little longer. The man behind the wheel was at least sixty and looked like an accountant, not someone Kaamil would send on an important errand.
Just before noon, the black Mercedes roadster pulled to the top of the underground ramp, hesitated for a moment, then accelerated out onto the road in front of the ISIS building. It was Kaamil. Drake started the Land Rover and fell in two cars behind the black roadster as it turned west onto Kruse Way and then north onto I-5, headed into the city.
The roadster maintained a steady speed through the Terwilliger curves and continued on toward downtown Portland. Part of him wanted to pull alongside, wave, and see how Kaamil reacted when he saw that Drake was alive. Instead, he followed at a distance to keep from being noticed.
When they neared the Markham bridge crossing over the Willamette River, Drake allowed a couple of cars to cut in front of him. I-5 continued over the bridge, but the freeway also split left into the city center and onto I-405 toward Mount Saint Helens. If Kaamil didn’t want to be followed, all he had to do was wait until the last moment and swerve to the left or to the right up over the bridge.
The roadster waited until the last moment, then crossed over into the right-hand lane, taking I-5 over the river. Drake followed, and watched a minute later when it took another right onto I-84, heading toward the airport.
Traffic on I-84 was more congested than on I-5, and he had to pay more attention to his driving to make sure he wasn’t spotted. He maintained pace with the Mercedes, but changed lanes frequently, and accordioned the space between the two cars. Kaamil, however, continued at a steady sixty-five miles per hour in the middle lane. Before much longer, Drake knew he would either take the exit to the Portland International Airport or continue traveling east.
When they reached the exit to the airport, Kaamil stayed on I-84. The freeway soon opened up and became a two-lane, winding speedway following the Columbia River up the gorge to Hood River. It was just the road for a car like the Mercedes SLS.
Wherever Kaamil was going, Drake was committed to following him. One way or another, he had to know if Kaamil was the man who sent killers to his farm.
Chapter 22
Despite the opportunity to drive faster, the black roadster held to a steady seventy miles per hour. Drake hardly noticed the Columbia River as it sliced through towering cliffs on either side. It was the only river that cut through the Cascade mountain range and allowed passage to the Pacific. Its beauty was lost on Drake, however. He had slipped into the role of the hunter.
When he was with Delta Force, he pursued the targets his government provided him, without question and without emotion. It had simply been his job. Now, he was pursuing someone and it wasn’t his job, and there was a lot of emotion.
As he drove past the Cascade Locks and the Bridge of the Gods, two hundred yards behind Kaamil’s roadster, his vibrating cell phone startled him back to the moment.
“Can I assume I won’t be seeing you later today?” Margo asked.
“I’m sorry, I should have called. Something’s come up. Everything okay there?”
“If you mean, do I have any more threatening men sitting around, the answer is no. Unless you count my
