The Assassin (59 page)

Still, there wasn’t much choice. The recliner was in the middle of the room, positioned next to an overstuffed couch. As he passed it, he shoved Mackie’s 9mm down between the cushions. Then, holding his Beretta in a modified Weaver stance, he approached the stairs in a crouch and looked up to the second floor, ready to fire.

The landing was empty. He moved up the stairs two at a time, painfully aware of the wood creaking beneath his feet. When he reached the last few steps, he paused. There was bare drywall to his right, the second-floor rooms beyond. Moving slightly to the left, he could see part of the room in front of him, but not the people inside.

There wasn’t much of a choice; he’d just have to risk it. Before he could move, though, he heard the sound of approaching feet. The sound sent a jolt of electricity running through his body, but he didn’t have time to react. Without warning, Crane appeared in the doorway in front of him. Her eyes opened wide, and there was a moment when everything froze. Then he advanced quickly, grabbed her by the shirt, and put the gun to her head.

“Don’t move. Who else is up here?”

She didn’t respond. He slammed her against the opposite wall and repeated the question. Her mouth was working silently. Finally, she managed to find her voice. “What are you doing here? What—”

“
Who else is up here?
”

“No one! Where’s Nick? What did you do to him?”

“He’s sleeping.” Kealey stepped back, but he kept the gun at arm’s length, aimed at her forehead. “Where’s your weapon?”

“My right hip.”

“Show it to me.”

She was wearing a black merino sweater over a white cotton blouse. Slowly, she lowered her right hand and lifted both layers. A Glock 10mm was tucked into her DeSantis holster.

“Take it out very slowly, and drop it.”

She did as he asked, her lips slightly parted, her eyes fixed on the muzzle in front of her face. When she dropped her weapon, it clattered away. Suddenly, Kealey sensed movement to his right and turned to look. Hakim Rudaki was standing in the doorway. The Iranian was of average height, with narrow, intelligent features. He was dressed in jeans and a Columbia University T-shirt, and appeared stunned by the scene unfolding before him.

“I thought you said no one was up here,” Kealey snapped. He grabbed her and turned her around roughly, jamming the muzzle of the Beretta into her lower back. Leaning down quickly, he picked up her gun and, using only his left hand, ejected the magazine. He positioned the upper receiver against his thigh and pushed forward, shucking out the remaining round. Then he dropped the useless weapon and pushed her into the room at the back of the house. Over her shoulder, he spoke to Rudaki. “You, get back in there. Hands where I can see them.”

A few seconds later, he had them sitting side by side on the bed. He could see that Rudaki’s mind was already working, trying to figure a way out of the situation. Crane, on the other hand, looked furious. Her face was flushed, her blond hair sticking out at crazy angles. “Kealey, I don’t know how the hell you found this place, but you’re going to—”

“Stop talking, Crane. There’s nothing you can say… I know what you did. Your only option now is to cooperate. If you do exactly what I tell you, I might even let you live. Until then, keep your mouth shut.” He turned the gun on Rudaki. “You’re the reason I’m here.”

The Iranian managed to look confused. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“I know who you are, Hakim. I know what you’ve been telling the Bureau, and I know you’re full of shit. The Iranians were never part of this. Individual people, maybe, but not the regime in Tehran.”

Rudaki shook his head slowly. “Everything I’ve said is the truth.”

“No, it isn’t,” Kealey snarled. “The Bureau may have bought it, but I don’t.” He looked at Crane. “What’s he been telling you now? That Ahmadinejad is targeting the UN?”

Crane looked startled. “As a matter of fact, yes. But security is so tight that—”

“Save it, Samantha. Don’t try to play dumb. I know you have a part in this.”

She stood up, her fists balled by her side. “What are you talking about?” she shouted.

“
Sit down!
”

“No!” She planted her feet and glared at him. “You’d better explain yourself right now, Ryan, or—”

“The raid in Alexandria,” Kealey said, cutting her off. He stared at her intently. “You were so fucking quick to go in, weren’t you? Why? Was it just to shut Mason up?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“What happened after that? Hold on,” he said sarcastically. “Let me guess. You found out that we had Mason’s laptop, and you knew you had to get it back, because it had Thomas Rühmann’s name on it. But that didn’t happen in time, did it? We got the name before you could act, so instead, you told Vanderveen where to find us.”

She didn’t rise to the bait, so Kealey raised his voice, trying to get through to her. “He nearly killed me and Naomi Kharmai in Berlin, Crane. It had to be you… Aside from you and Ford, no one else knew we were going to Germany.”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“Stop.” She fell silent, and he shook his head in disgust. “The only question is, what are you getting out of it?” He looked at her hard, trying to see what was behind those angry brown eyes. “It’s money, isn’t it? How much did it take to buy you off, Sam?”

Rudaki was starting to look nervous, Kealey noticed, which wouldn’t mean much by itself, but combined with Crane’s expression, it was cause for concern. She looked furious, but also genuinely confused, and while he knew it could be an act, he had seen people try to act their way out of bad situations before. This looked real, and for the first time since he’d learned that Crane was running Rudaki, he felt a tremor of doubt.

“Vanderveen?
Will
Vanderveen?” She gave an incredulous laugh. “You think I’ve been passing him information?”

“I know you have,” he said through gritted teeth. His finger was tightening on the trigger, the muzzle level with Crane’s heart. “You can’t lie your way out of this. It had to be you. Don’t you get it? Even if you discount the other shit as coincidence,
no one else knew about Berlin.
”

Crane scoffed. “What, I’m supposed to take your word on that? If anyone’s been feeding Vanderveen information, it’s probably someone at Langley.”

That’s not possible,” Kealey said, but he hesitated. Even through the blustering and the sarcasm, her innocence shone through like a beacon he couldn’t ignore. “Crane, I’m only going to ask you this one time. Did you tell anyone what Ford told you? Anyone at all?”

She shrugged, as if the question was meaningless. “I told my partner, of course, but I tell him—”

“Who’s your partner?”

“Matt Foster,” she reminded him. “From the warehouse in Alexandria, remember? He’s the one who shot Mason.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“Everything,” Crane replied, finishing her earlier sentence. She was starting to sound annoyed, and Kealey realized that, gun or no gun, her cooperation was coming to an end.

“He was on administrative leave while they investigated the shooting,” Crane continued. “But after they cleared him, he decided to stay in Washington instead of coming back here.” Her mouth twitched, a light coming on in her eyes, and Kealey had a sudden insight. It was subtle, but the look on her face suggested that her relationship with Foster went beyond a mere partnership. “I had drinks with my aunt a few nights ago, and when I got back to the hotel, I told him everything.”

“What night did you see your aunt?”

“Tuesday. Tuesday night at the Monocle.”

The night before he and Naomi had flown to Berlin
. Kealey shook his head, trying to think it through. “So what happened in Alexandria? You said you got an anonymous tip that Mason was there…?”

“That came through Matt,” Crane confirmed. “He took the call in New York, and I asked the ADIC to call Washington and get us in on the raid. After all, we had been looking for Mason for months, and the tip came through our FO. It was only fair that we should have a part in bringing him down.”

“Could Foster be sure of being there?”

“Of course,” Crane shot back. “He’s my partner, for one thing, and I have… advantages.” Kealey knew she was referring to her relationship with Rachel Ford. “Besides, Matt has connections as well. His father spent twenty years as an agent. He finished as the SAC in Houston, and he still has plenty of friends in the Bureau.”

He looked at Rudaki. “So you’ve been working with Foster.”

“No! I have no idea what you’re—”

“Matt had nothing to do with this!” Crane shouted, cutting off Rudaki’s denial. “And you can’t prove otherwise, so stop accusing him!”

“Save it,” Kealey snarled. He gestured to Rudaki. “What else has this guy been telling you? What’s supposed to happen today?”

She looked at her informant and took a deep breath, as if deciding how much to say. “He said the Iranian government was working with Rühmann. They’re supposed to hit the UN this afternoon.”

“How?” Kealey addressed the question to Crane, even though Rudaki was right there. He still wasn’t sure of Crane’s role in all of this, but he definitely didn’t trust the Iranian to give up the truth, even at gunpoint.

“He didn’t say,” Crane said. “But it doesn’t matter. We’ve already locked down the whole area. It would have to be a bomb, but even if the Iranians have one, they won’t be able to get it within two blocks of the target. It would never work.”

“The Iranians are not behind this, Sam. It’s Will Vanderveen, and he
does
have a bomb. A very large one.” Kealey turned back to Rudaki and pointed the gun at his face. “And you know something about it, so start talking.”

“I have no idea what you’re—”

“I’ll ask you once more,” Kealey said, struggling to keep his voice calm. “And then I’m going to shoot you. Do you understand?”

Rudaki looked to Crane, who looked in turn to Kealey. She scowled and said, “You’d better be bluffing, Ryan. If you do this, I will personally make sure you spend the rest of your life in prison.”

“I have the gun, Samantha, and I’m still not convinced of your innocence. You might want to keep that in mind. The only reason I’m not putting these questions to you is because of your position.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t hurt you to get the truth,” he explained. “And I don’t want to, even though you probably deserve it. But I
can
hurt him, and that’s just what I plan to do unless he starts talking.”

“Bullshit,” she said simply. “You’re bluffing.”

“You can’t let this happen,” Rudaki said, looking at Crane. Some of his bluster was starting to fade. “You’re with the FBI, and this man is threatening me.
Do something.
”

“Where’s the fucking bomb?” Kealey shouted.

Rudaki looked at the gun, then at Kealey’s face. “I don’t—”

The shot sounded like an explosion in the small room. Hakim Rudaki screamed in agony, his eyes wide in horror. He clutched at his ruined knee and slid from the bed to the floor, blood pumping between his fingers.

“Jesus Christ!” Crane screamed, dropping her arms. “What the hell are you…?”

Kealey never heard the rest of her question. He was on the ground, his left hand wrapped in Rudaki’s hair, his gun jammed under the other man’s chin. He was screaming the same question over and over, his face an inch from Rudaki’s. “Where’s the bomb? Where is it? Tell me, you piece of shit!
Tell me!
”

Kealey was aware of Crane’s hands on his shoulders. She was trying to pull him back, and it briefly occurred to him that if she was in on it, she wouldn’t even be in the room; she would have gone for her gun in the hall. The fact that she hadn’t only reinforced her innocence.

He shrugged her off and kept screaming the question. Finally, through gritted teeth, Rudaki howled a name.

“What? What was that?”

“
Nazeri! I don’t know anything about a bomb! I only know the name, I swear to God….”

“Nazeri? Who is he?
Where
is he?”

“
I don’t know!
”

“The Iranian government was never behind this, was it?” Rudaki seemed to hesitate, and Kealey shouted the question again.

“No,” Rudaki gasped. His face was covered in sweat, and Kealey could tell he was about to pass out. “Tehran never had a hand in it. The whole thing started in Iraq.”

“With who?” Kealey demanded. “Who in Iraq?”

Rudaki shook his head, his face contorted with pain. “I never dealt with the top people. Just intermediaries.”

“Like Vanderveen, right? You dealt with Vanderveen?”

“Yes. I dealt with Vanderveen and…” He nodded at Crane, who had been watching the exchange with a mixed expression of shock and disbelief. “Her partner.”

It was irrefutable proof; at this point, Rudaki would gain nothing by lying. Kealey shot a glance at Samantha Crane. She was staring at the Iranian informant, her face frozen. “This whole time?” she finally managed to choke out. “I don’t believe it. You’re lying.”

Rudaki shook his head weakly. “It’s the truth. I swear it.”

“You’re lying,” Crane repeated, but the words had lost their conviction. “It can’t be true. It’s not possible. It’s just not…”

Her voice faltered, but instead of collapsing into herself, she suddenly sprinted forward. “
You fuck!
” she screamed. “
You fucking
—”

Kealey was caught off-guard by the sudden outburst, but he managed to restrain her in time, wrapping her up from behind. “We don’t have time for this,” he said in a low, urgent voice. “He’ll get what’s coming to him, and so will Foster.”

He could feel her trembling in his arms; her whole body was shaking with rage. “Come on, calm down, okay? I’m going to let you go. Don’t do anything crazy. Stay calm.”

He released her cautiously. Then he asked for her phone, having left his in the car. As she pulled it out of her pocket and handed it over, he pushed her into the hall, then followed her out. He was careful to keep his body between her and Rudaki, who was still lying on the floor in the bedroom, moaning in agony.