What Lies Behind (27 page)

Chapter 48

WHEN THE DOOR
opened and Sam saw Xander and Chalk come through, she felt overwhelming relief. She hurried to them. “Xander, are you okay?”

“I am. Daniels sent us back here. We cornered Maureen Heedles, and I shot her in the leg. Where’s Fletcher? I need to make sure he knows what’s happening.”

Fletcher came into the hall, clapped him on the shoulder. “I know. We saw the whole thing. Mouse tapped into the CCTV cameras. You did good.”

“I should have killed her,” he said grimly.

“Probably. But it’s good that you didn’t. She might be able to give us information. I should head down to the scene. I’ll make sure they understand what happened.”

“It’s all on video,” Chalk said. “A fucking reporter was there, plus a bunch of kids.” He dropped the phones and film cassette onto the hall table. “Lucky they weren’t killed.”

They went into the den. Mouse was on the floor, stretched out like a teenager on her stomach, typing faster than anyone Sam had ever seen.

“Mouse,” Xander said. “Heedles said there was a pyramid, or the group is called the Pyramid. We need to see if we can find what she’s referring to. Here’s her phone. We found it in the bushes at the end of the street. She didn’t have time to destroy it when she was on the run. Can you see who she’s been talking to?”

“I’m on it,” Mouse said. “While you two were off being heroes, I found a seek-and-destroy program on Heedles’s computer. She launched it when we asked her to look at the personnel files. She’s managed to destroy half the servers in Denon’s company. They’re totally wiped clean.”

“Can you restore them?” Xander asked.

“Maybe. We have the SD card Amanda smuggled out, and it has a pretty sophisticated program on it that could be used to restore what’s been wiped. It’s almost as if she knew this would happen, and put her own fail-safe into play. I can’t promise it will work, and it’s going to take a while. She’s very good. She’s had the attack built into the system for a while. This kind of recovery, it’s hit or miss. It all depends on what I can reconstruct. It’s like a puzzle—without the corners, you can’t make the insides work.”

“Did she kill the information about Africa, and the medicine?” Sam asked.

Mouse nodded. “I’m sorry, but she did. She’s destroyed this so thoroughly even I am going to have trouble recovering it. She had at least thirty minutes’ head start, and it was enough time to wipe most everything clean. I’ll do my best, but without another backup to run and fill in the blanks, I can’t promise anything.”

“Another backup? You mean, like another computer where the information could be stored?”

“Yes. I’ve reconstructed a bit. I can see threads to other computers. But she’s severed them, and sent the attack program into their systems to wipe them clean, too. There are at least two other machines that hold the answers she was trying to get rid of. One is here in D.C., and one is in France. Probably the home of the terrorist who organized this in the first place.”

“If there’s one in D.C.... Can you trace an address, Mouse?” Fletcher asked.

“It’s on Connecticut Avenue.”

“Where does Jason Kruger live? What’s his address?”

Mouse typed some more, her tongue caught between her teeth. “There’s a Kruger on...hey, you’re good. Here it is—3700 Connecticut Avenue, apartment 303.” She flipped the screen, and Sam saw a satellite shot of D.C. The image zoomed in to a small spot. “It’s a match,” Mouse announced.

Fletcher had his phone in his hand, was squinting at the small screen. “My vote is someone gets over to Kruger’s house ASAP. He was up to his eyeballs in this. He must have a backup for safekeeping in case he needed to use it to try and play the hero instead of the villain.” He hit Refresh for the hundredth time in the past fifteen minutes. “Where the hell is Cavort with that file?”

On cue, Fletcher’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen, then answered with a frown. “Woolrich? What’s wrong?”

“Hey, boss. I’ve got a major problem.”

“Don’t we all,” he said. “Hit me.”

“I know you’re off on admin, but I thought you might want to hear this. That guy Hart interviewed earlier today, the one driving the gray Honda in circles around the crime scene? Hart told me something felt off about him, asked me to do a background check. The guy he described who opened the door and said he was Toliver Pryce doesn’t match the driver’s license photo Virginia has on file. It’s not even close.”

“Son of a bitch. Get back over there. Right now.”

“I’m already here. No one’s answering the door.”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit. Does this Pryce guy have family?”

“Not that I can find. I called his work—he’s an actuary out in Ballston. Boss said he’s a loner, keeps to himself. He was genuinely worried about the guy. Apparently, missing work is completely out of character. Without a family, if he were hurt or missing, no one would come forward to ask for a welfare check, right? We’d need to take the boss’s word on things?”

“That’s right. If you’re asking permission, I absolutely think you have enough to go in.”

“Armstrong’s getting paper right now. He wanted to be sure we were all taken care of. I just wanted you to know.”

“Break down the fucking door, Woolrich. I don’t give a shit if we have paper or not. This might be the key to stopping our killer.”

“Goddamn it. This is on you, Fletch.”

Fletcher heard a crash, then a muffled groan.

“Ah, man. Smells awful in here. We’ve got a body.” More shuffling, a murmur of voices in the background, then Woolrich came back on the line. “Fletch, we found him. Pryce has been stabbed. He’s in the closet. We’ve got another fucking crime scene.”

“Turn it over. You need to grab Tony and hightail it out to Hart’s place. We need a composite sketch of the guy he saw, and we need it yesterday. Have crime scene run the entire place for DNA, trace, anything they can find. We’re missing one last assassin. This might be him.”

“I’ll hand the scene over and get on my way. You think he’s in cahoots with the woman?”

“Maybe. What did Hart say he looked like?”

“Pretty boy. Really handsome guy, could have been a model. Blue eyes, midthirties. I’ll get with Tony and get a sketch together.”

“Is the Honda still there?”

“Yes. It’s in the driveway.”

“So we don’t know for sure whether this guy was really driving it last night or not.”

“Nope. Which puts everything he said into question. His whole statement is worthless.”

“Go get me a composite drawing, Woolrich. We’ll worry about the rest later.”

“Roger that.”

He hung up, and Fletcher’s phone dinged. It was the email from Cavort. “Finally,” he said, opening the file.

Kruger was thirty-four, born in Cape Town to an American mother and South African father. His mother was a diplomat, and they moved around a lot—he spent most of his time in England and South Africa. He went to the embassy schools, and followed in their footsteps into the Foreign Service. He requested the Africa desk, wanting to work closely with the various countries he’d fallen in love with as a boy.

He scanned the rest. This wasn’t going to do it. They needed more. Financials. Private emails. Phones. All the things that took time. He saw Sam, face pale but composed, moving from the kitchen to the living room, and intercepted her in the hall.

“We gotta go to Kruger’s place, ASAP. This file doesn’t give us diddly-squat.”

“You can’t show up there, Fletch. You’ll get into all kinds of trouble.”

“Then you go. Take Xander as backup. Someone needs to get into his place immediately. I’ll stay here and see that Bebbington and Everson are taken care of properly.”

Their raw scent had permeated the house. She didn’t want to go anywhere near the kitchen. Fletcher was giving her an out, and she was more than tempted to take it. She knew how to handle a crime scene, but this was her home. Her refuge. And it had been defiled in the most horrible way possible. She would never be able to stand in her kitchen again without seeing the vast emptiness of Everson’s face, and Bebbington’s head falling off his shoulders.

A wave of panic washed through her.
One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four.

Get it together, Owens.

She wanted out of this house. Right now.

She ducked into the guest bath, turned the water on hot, scrubbed her hands until they felt clean, counting, counting, counting. Fletcher said nothing, waited outside the door for her.

When she finally twisted off the tap and dried her hands, they were bloodred, but she had herself somewhat under control. She reached for the Glock at the small of her back, then deliberately inserted it into a small leather holster she’d taken from the closet and clipped it to her belt. She stashed a few extra magazines in her back pockets, grabbed her Birkin bag and said, “Ready.”

“You good?” Fletcher asked, giving her a veiled look.

She nodded. “I’m good. I trust your gut. We’ll go. Denon’s in shock. He bears watching. You don’t know that he won’t freak out and try to shoot you again.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be good. Honestly, I’d rather get him out of here, too, but he needs to stay somewhere that we can keep an eye on him. Leave Chalk with me. We’ll watch over him, make sure everything gets handled here. Sam, you have to hurry. I have a feeling about this.”

She’d known him long enough not to discount his instincts.

“Won’t there already be homicide people there?”

“Maybe. But if you get going, you could get ahead of them. We’re stretched pretty fucking thin right now, with all these crime scenes. Besides, you’re working this case. You have every right to be there. Come on. We don’t have time to lose.”

She stared him in the eye for a moment, and he saw the gold flecks in the honey brown that seemed to dance in the light from the hall lamp. She nodded once. “Feels like the roof is about to be on fire.”

Fletcher grinned wide. He’d told her how much he loved singing that song when he and his band were together. “Too right it is. I vote we let the motherfucker burn.”

“Baldwin will be here shortly.”

“I’ll fill him in. He’ll be good for the coordination of everything, since Daniels is stuck down there with Heedles. I’ll make sure the CDC is notified, take care of beginning the coordination of shutting down the vaccines. You go. Please, Sam.”

She nodded. “Xander,” she called. “Where are you?”

He came around the corner, Thor padding at his feet, the M4 resting easily in his arms, like a father cradling a baby.

“Gear up, babe. We have to go to Jason Kruger’s house, right now.”

Chapter 49

Potomac River

ROBIN HADN’T BEEN
compromised, that she knew for sure. She was vulnerable, yes, she had the last vestiges of a head injury lingering about, was shattered by the death of her little sister and her mother’s constant betrayals, but she wasn’t compromised. She was going to end this before it spread any further.

First, she needed weapons. She wasn’t about to go into the breach unarmed.

The gun the Secret Service agent carried was already in her pocket. She started combing through Riley’s place, looking for guns and ammo, anything that might help. She found his gun safe in the small, tailored closet in his tiny bedroom. A combination lock and a key, double fail-safes.
Shit.
If she could only get back to her own place, she had an arsenal there. But she knew the cops had to be crawling all over it by now. Home was no longer an option.

She was surprised to feel the loss of her sanctuary keenly, wondered if she’d ever be able to go home again, but pushed away the emotional intrusion and kept searching. She found the safe’s key taped to the back of a painting of a sunset in the bathroom. She inserted it into the gun safe lock, turned it. One part down.

Think, Robin. Riley wasn’t trying to keep people out of his safe. Not really. It was for defense, but he was more likely to stay constantly on offense. He’d want to be able to get into it, and quickly. So if Riley was in a hurry, what would the simplest code be
?

000.

She lined up the numbers, and the safe opened. She laughed to herself. Riley hadn’t expected her to toss his place looking for weapons. He hadn’t taken enough precautions. Regardless of what he’d been expecting, it was sloppy. Which surprised her. Riley wasn’t normally the sloppy type.

She pulled out a 5.56 Tracking Point 500 series AR, admired the state-of-the-art long-range weapon for a moment, followed it with a 9mm Smith & Wesson M&P. The TP AR would be good for a long-range shot, and it fit well against her back if she needed to run. She slapped on a leg holster with a K-Bar knife in the sheath, filled a pouch with multiple magazines for the handgun, and an extra clip for the AR, strapped it to her waist. She slammed the door to the safe and returned the key to its hiding place. If she couldn’t take them down with this arsenal, it was time for her to quietly retire.

She needed to call Lola, get her brain moving on things.

She picked up Riley’s phone, started dialing the number, then stopped and set the phone gently back in the cradle.

Don’t trust anyone, Robin.

Maybe Gina was right. Maybe she was better off handling things herself. The only problem was, she didn’t know where to start.

She needed some help. Riley’s unsecured desktop computer was sitting on his desk. She booted it up, hijacked the system, bypassed the passcode, encrypted the hell out of the system and was in.

It took her fifteen precious minutes to get all the addresses, phone numbers and maps she needed. She turned the computer off, picked up the phone and made a single call. She had to talk to Atlantic. She had to find out what was going on.

She was shocked when he answered.

“Riley?”

“No, sir, it’s Souleyret. I’m at Riley’s place.”

“Where is he?” There was a note of urgency in his voice she’d never heard before.

“I don’t know, sir. He told me you sent him to clean up my mess.” There was an edge to her own words, but she’d long ago stopped being frightened of powerful men. Atlantic could have her murdered in her sleep if he wanted, but why would he? She was an asset to him, until the moment she stopped being one. When he’d brought her on board, he’d pledged that he would let her know when she stopped being of use to him. It was nice to know she would be informed of her own expiration date.

Atlantic was quiet for a moment, then she heard a sigh. “I was afraid of this.”

She was shocked at her anger, but there was no stopping it now. “I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment. I’ll just go off quietly and eat a bullet. Will that do for you?
Sir?
”

“Robin. Riley is unsanctioned.”

The words hit her like a speeding train. “What did you say?”

“I have been searching for answers to your sister’s death since you called me this morning. I unearthed some tremendously frightening information. Riley has been working with Jason Kruger at the State Department. He is a part of an organization known as Pyramid. They come from Tripoli, an offshoot of al Qaeda. They went to Africa to raise an army. Their scientists, who have been funded handsomely over the past few years, were tasked with finding a way to attack the United States and Israel. These cowards are behind the terrorist attack planned on American soil tomorrow. I understand Mr. Kruger is dead, and the samples Amanda brought into the US are missing. They have stolen them.
Riley
has stolen them. There has been increasing chatter about an attack coming shortly. They’re planning to release a genetically modified superbug into the United States. They’ve been working on several different delivery methods. Water. Vaccines. Grenades. Putting sick people into airplanes. Their theory is, if they spread it widely enough, chances are good they can sicken thousands of people. This superbug kills in forty-eight hours, and it’s airborne. We will have a pandemic on our hands almost immediately.”

She felt the world breaking into fragments around her. Riley. Riley was behind this. All his anger today, his comfort, his words.

I can’t do this anymore.

He didn’t kill your sister.

She thought her heart might burst from her chest, the blood pumping so hard she could feel the individual beats against her ribs. “Did you know this threat was under way?”

“Yes. But we didn’t know who the players were. Now we know some of them. Maureen Heedles, who worked R and D for James Denon. Jason Kruger from State. We have the name of an organization. It will take time to track down all those involved, but we have a beginning.”

“And Riley is a part of this. Are you absolutely certain?”

“I am. I’m sorry. I know you have been friends for some time.” The word
friends
floated from the phone, spinning lazily in the air, tinged in green.

You could call it that
, she thought, then her stomach seized and she fought down a sickening bout of nausea. Riley, who’d been helping her recover, who’d slid into her bed and into her body with ease. The head injury had forced down her walls. She’d been vulnerable for the first time in her adult life.

And he’d taken advantage of her temporary lull.

Gina was right, after all. She
had
been compromised.

Riley had been using her this whole time. He’d been waiting, biding his time, knowing exactly what Amanda was working on. That was why he’d always inquired after her. Not every day, just sprinkled into conversation here and there.

Where’s Amanda these days? What is she up to?

I’d love to meet her sometime. Does she ever come back to the States?

She must be pretty important if you can’t touch base with her. Where did you say she worked again?

Innocuous chatter. Getting-to-know-you conversations. Fucking pillow talk.

She’d walked into the oldest trick in the book. Seduction.

Robin stared out into the dark water, listened to its hypnotic lapping, the maddeningly regular splashes against the hull of the boat as the tide forced its way into the marshes.
He who controls the tides...
She had no choice. Riley had killed her sister. She had to take him down. There was no decision to be made here. It was Riley and his terrorists or her.

“Atlantic, where would he be? Where did he go? Do you have eyes on him?”

“He’s shielding himself from us. Or they’re doing it for him. Our satellites over D.C. have been deactivated. That was my first clue Riley had turncoated. We’re awaiting help from the NSA. But until we’re back online, our usual tools are useless.”

“Jesus. And he knows exactly how to make a satellite go dark. Please tell me you have a fix on his tracker.”

“It’s gone. He cut it out of his arm, or he’s lying dead at the bottom of the Potomac, right under your feet.”

“He’s not here. I saw him leave. He must have tossed the tracker as he left.”

Right after he kissed me goodbye.

“I’m sorry, Robin. You’re going to have to use old-fashioned methods to find him. Because he’s managed to blind us. We’ve flagged his passports, all the identities we know of, but you know he has friends. He could be in the air right now, and we’d never know it.”

“Where would he go? Back to Africa? No, sir. He’s here. If they’re planning an attack, he’s going to be in the midst of things. That’s his way.”

“Lola has the names of the other members involved in the day’s events. Kruger is dead. Maureen Heedles has been neutralized, is being taken to the hospital with a gunshot wound. A Spaniard, Senza, was killed this morning trying to eliminate James Denon.”

“I’ve crossed paths with him before. Not sorry he’s gone.”

“And the man you found at Dr. Bromley’s office? He was a French national named Alain Montague. Very nasty business, how we lost him.”

She caught the rebuke. “Yes, I should have left him alive. But why? He was a hired gun. He knew nothing. He’d been sent to kill, and he nearly succeeded.”
Riley sent the man to kill you, Robin. Remember that. There could be more.

“Bygones.”

“I’ll find Riley, sir. And I will end him.”

“I trust you know where to start?”

“I do. I’ll report back when I have news.”

She hung up the phone, stared at the arsenal she’d just accumulated. Did a press check on the Glock, and headed into the living room. Girabaldi and her pet Secret Service agent were still dutifully sitting at the table where she’d left them.

“We have a problem,” she said.

“Another?” Girabaldi responded.

“Yes. We need to get you out of here.”

Robin grabbed the shoulder of her mother’s perpetually elegant Chanel jacket and pulled her from her seat. She tossed the agent his gun and backup. “Car. Now.”

He listened, ran to the car, and by the time Robin hurried Girabaldi out of the houseboat, he had the car started. Robin shoved Gina into the backseat and climbed in behind her.

As they drove up the deserted lane, Robin asked, “Do you have a safe house? Someplace you can go that no one knows about?”

“I have a place on the Chesapeake. It’s sheltered. No one can trace it to me.”

“Go there, now. Use your most secure protocols. No phones, nothing that can be used to track you.” She took Girabaldi’s cell and tossed it in the bushes.

“I’m safer with you.”

“No, you’re absolutely not. Our host here is involved in the plot.”

“Riley Dixon? Working against our interests? That’s not possible.”

“It is possible, because it’s true. He’s gone dark. I just talked to our...to a friend, who’s warned me what Riley is really up to. I have to find him and eliminate him. You won’t be safe with me. Head to your beach. Have Fumbles here watch your back.”

The agent gave her an exceptionally dirty look in the rearview. Robin smiled at him. “Let me off on the corner of Prince and South Pitt, then get her the hell out of here. Think you can do that?”

“Yes,” he grumbled.

“Good.”

Gina actually looked frightened, something Robin couldn’t remember ever seeing. “What are you planning, Robin? You can’t go up against Riley alone. He’ll see you coming a mile away.”

“No, he won’t.” Robin stared out the window for a moment. “You don’t know me very well, Gina. I will do whatever I must. That’s how I was raised, and that’s how I was trained.”

They were moving quickly now. There was very little traffic. They’d be at her drop-off point in a few minutes.

“Listen to me. You need to disappear. Riley is going to be hard to stop, yes, and I don’t need to be worrying that you’re safe, as well. When you see this splashed on the news, and that we have a resolution, you’ll know it’s time to come home. Can you do that for me? Just trust me for once and disappear?”

Gina nodded. “I’ve always trusted you,” she said quietly. “Be careful, Robin.”

She gave her mother a cocky smile. “I always am.”