Out of the Shadows (Falcon) (22 page)

“It nearly killed my mother. She had three kids
, no job, and her only family was a sister in Dallas. I became the man of the house at fourteen by working two part-time jobs and going to school. It was tough. At eighteen I went into the service.”

“No college?”

“I got that later. First I had to take care of mom and the girls. While I was in the military, I sent my mom every dime I made. Borrowed money for the girls to attend and graduate from college.” He rolled onto his side. “Finally my mom managed to open a small diner in our hometown. She’s doing well now. She always was a great cook.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility for a teenager. I thought the guy who broke in
to my house and kidnapped me might be a loose cannon. Now it sounds like you’re the responsible one.”

He laughed. “That doesn’t mean I have
n’t screwed up royally several times in the past. My motto is ‘just do it and beg forgiveness later’.”

Kate laughed.
“So, why are we talking marriage?”

He shrugged.

Her smile faded, and she looked away. “Best we stop.”

“Yeah,” Brody said. Changing the subject he asked, “Who do you think took A.J.?”

“Someone in this village has to be involved. A.J. didn’t just walk away,” Kate said.

“My first guess was Alberto. But he seems more determined than anyone to free his people.
”

“I
agree. Alberto is no traitor. Before we leave this desert, Brody, we have to find out who was behind A.J.’s disappearance.”

“If someone else is in
on this, it would be an advantage if we could get some information before everything goes down.”

“Where do we start?”

***

Angel Diaz picked up his phone and called the person who’d planted him in Oscar’s
army to make sure the drug lord didn’t do anything stupid. After all, Chavez was their money man. Without him, too many things could go wrong.

“I found a little information today. Put out
feelers to my buddy in the NSA. It appears Monique Sutherland is actually Sibel Said. She could be a plant for Youssef el Jibar’s network.”

“Are you sure?”

“Fuck yes, I’m sure. You think I’d call you if I didn’t trust my sources?”

“How?”

“My guess is someone high in the food chain created a new identity for Said and put her to work at finding out what she could do to help el Jibar hurt America.”

His contact cleared his throat. “How are you involved?”

“She called me,” Angel said. “Wants me to kill Kate Stone. I think Stone must know something.”

“They’re all fucking bitches
.”

The phone went dead and Angel looked at the black scre
en. Monique a terrorist operative? How did killing Stone play into this? Wondering what to do, he left his bedroom and went looking for Oscar.

Now he would have to kill Stone. He had no choice. But it wouldn’t be b
ecause Monique had asked him to do it. Stone had to die because they couldn’t afford any loose ends.

To kill the
president was one thing, but to destroy America would be of no value to their future. Angel had to see how best to use the information he’d just obtained. Stone might not be the only woman he killed.

***

Stockholm, Sweden

Albin
Burr stepped on the Arlanda Express that would connect with the Nykopling-Stockholm rail service and arrive at the Stockholm-Skavsta airport. The whole trip took an hour and thirty minutes before arriving at his departure gate.

Wearing
a light jacket, Albin carried only the necessary papers to get him to El Paso, Texas and back. To keep from being scrutinized too closely, he carried a small carry-on piece of luggage containing a change of clothes. When on a mission he made sure nothing could be traced.

Everything for the job would be
purchased there, the sniper rifle, the scope, the ammunition, and even the gloves. He carried little into the country and always left what he’d bought.

When
the train pulled to a stop, Burr stepped off the floor-level platform and into the busy terminal. No one noticed a man of medium height, medium build with light hair and blue eyes. There was nothing memorable about his appearance or the clothes he wore. Nothing anyone would identify.

And he wanted to keep it that way. He was simply a gun for hire. If not him
, then anyone of a hundred other assassins would gladly step forward and take the job. The pay made every risk worth taking.

It wasn’t personal. He wouldn’t know the name of his target
until a day before the strike. He’d simply get a picture and set up shop. Shortly afterwards, information about where and when would be sent to a prepaid phone. Once he’d done his part, the money would be wired to an off shore account.

After that, he would go to the ai
rport and fly back to Sweden. Being away from home too long made him lonely and depressed. Now that they were expecting their third child, Albin wanted to be there for the delivery. Perhaps this would be his last job. They’d saved a lot, and it was time to retire and stay home with his family in peace.

His wife, Olga
, had no idea what he did to make so much money and she was too good a wife to ask. Only his mother made up stupid lies she told friends, about him working for some computer company. While he never asked her to create another life for him, he never told her the truth, either.

Burr thought that, l
ike his wife, she didn’t want to know. Most women preferred to be in the dark about such matters as money, especially the kind he made. Men didn’t care so much. They didn’t need to make up lies and tell stories that only grew bigger and bigger.

Men
knew to keep their mouths shut and their thoughts to themselves. They were rarely burdened with a guilty conscience or a need to confide in another person. Like him, they wanted a simple, uncomplicated life.

T
he gate attendant called his flight number. After showing the necessary papers, he fell in line with the other passengers. All of them were oblivious that amongst them stood a man who had well over a hundred kills under his belt.

So much for safety
.

***

Brody pulled his gun when he heard footsteps. “What are you doing, padre?”

As an innocent gesture, the padre spread out his arms. “I am
simply walking around the village. Making sure all is well.”

Brody placed his gun at his sid
e and covered Kate, who rested on the blanket. “You ever see Chavez?”

“What?”

Squinting, he looked up at Father Ayaaya. “Chavez, have you seen him before?”

The padre shook his head. “No, no. Never
up close.”

“Guess he doesn’t come to church.”

“No.”

“So, when I walked into the trap in the village, you didn’t know Chavez was waiting for me?”

“No, I did not know. Had I known I would have warned you.”

Brody
stood and walked away from Kate. The padre followed. “I don’t know where he and all his men are today.” Brody said. “It’s kind of quiet around here.”

The padre put his hands together. “Praise God.”

“Maybe they’re planning a big attack?”

“Perhaps.”

“I’m going to have to go to La Hacienda and rescue my friend. I don’t care who gets killed in the process.”

“Won’t you wait for night
fall?”

Brody scratched his chin. “I’m not exactly sure what to do. What do you suggest
?”

The padre’s eyes grew large
, and he stepped back. “Me?” With his hands against his chest, he said. “I have no use for violence. It is a sin against God.”

“To bring the guilty to justice?”

“All of this, the killing, the suffering. I pray it will end soon.”

“You’re praying for a miracle.”

“You are such a man of war, Brody Hawke.” The padre’s tone sounded insolent to Brody.

“So were
Joshua, David, and Gideon. God has used men of war since the beginning.”

The priest raised his eyebrows.
“You know your Bible well.”

“Southern Baptist
, remember?”

The padre nodded.
“Ah, the true believers.”

“You
’re a believer, right?”

Father Ayaaya
clutched the cross hanging from a long chain around his neck and kissed it. “I am, Brody. I am a dedicated man of God.”

“So am I. We just show it in different ways, perhaps.”

“I pray for you, my friend.”

E
yes narrowed, Brody watched as the padre turned and walked toward his church. The priest swiftly crossed the dusty courtyard with long, confident strides.

Brody stood near Alberto’s home and stared at the church and thought of the padre. While he claimed to be a man of the cloth, Brody saw little
evidence of his devotion to his flock. Since arriving in the village, Brody couldn’t recall ever seeing Father Ayaaya conversing with any member of his congregation other than Manny.

Nor ha
d he seen anyone besides the padre enter the church. Brody didn’t claim to know a lot about the Catholic religion, but he knew many went to church daily to light candles for loved ones. He wondered who lit these candles.

Something didn’t add up.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Lying in the shade, Kate wondered what was missing about the report sent to Langley. A reporter who’d gained information while imprisoned in Iraq had called last month. Kate had been at her desk that day trying to write up a report.

The caller had been frantic, scared
, and refused to identify himself except to say he used to work for a foreign newspaper. He told her that a woman in Washington, D.C. whose brother had ties to Youssef el Jibar wanted to destroy America.

Also,
this woman worked in the White House and went by the name of Monique, but he had no last name. She’d been in the middle of investigating further when Brody had kidnapped her.

Something
else bothered her. The caller said Grimes and Parker were part of an American sleeper cell for the terrorist organization run by Youssef el Jibar. For months she’d thought they were two murdered heroes. Now, thinking back, their behavior during the mission had been strange, almost bizarre.

Kate had racked her brain trying to come up with
more information, but couldn’t find a thread to follow. She’d written a report detailing the anonymous call and turned it into her supervisor who forwarded it to the CIA’s main office.

Hopefully
they could investigate further. Kate had spent days waiting for the guy to call back with additional information she could send down the pipeline. So far nothing.

Something made her think about that whole incident. What if a woman
had
been planted and was somehow wrapped up in the whole A.J. being kidnapped thing? Kate shook her head. That didn’t make sense at all. Did it?

Still
, she wondered who in Washington stood to gain if anything happened to the country’s leadership. How could anyone pull off something so complicated and with so many players?

Washington D.C.

“Come in gentlemen,”
the president called out. “I want to go over the trip to El Paso.”

“We’re making certain
everything is ready,” Scott Wheeler said. “I have men at the hotel seeing that everything is checked and rechecked.” Scott looked over at Doug Morgan and patted him on the back. “And guess who cut his vacation short to make sure everything went off like clockwork.”

Doug frowned.
“I don’t like this, sir. This is far too risky. Perhaps you can convince President Gomez to come here to Washington, where we can provide proper security.”

“We
could do that.” President Davis put his hand on Doug’s shoulder. “But I think President Gomez will feel more comfortable near his own border. And it shows we’re not afraid of the drug cartels.”

“W
e’d be foolish not to be cautious. Those are dangerous people,” Doug said. “They kill indiscriminately. And they have no respect for the police or their government.”

Davis sat behind his desk.
“We must show them that they can’t reach across our border and harm Americans. That includes the president of this great country.”

“I think you’re right, sir.” Scott said. “Now is not the time to cower from criminal activity.”

Davis caught the hard glare Doug shot Scott. He wondered which of these men he could trust.

Morgan, w
ithout a doubt.

Doug had
been tested time and again. Six months ago, if the Secret Service agent hadn’t shoved him into a bullet proof vehicle and taken a round in the shoulder, the vice president would be sitting in the Oval Office right now. Doug’s loyalty couldn’t be questioned by anyone, and that included him.