Zero Separation (28 page)

“What about the others?”

“You mean the professor and the instructor? Both were jerks who tried to use their positions of authority to pressure me to have sex with them. As you said, they were dealt with.”

“You're very unusual in that regard.” Donovan chose his words carefully. “Why do you resort to action when most other people either run away or cower in fear?”

“It's none of your business.”

“What happened to you?”

“Leave it alone.”

“Did someone close to you betray you, hurt you?”

“I said leave it alone.”

“We're probably going to die—what difference does it make?”

“Stop it!”

“I need to know what keeps you angry. What makes you the one to dispense justice?” Donovan waited for her reply, but she
remained silent. He cautioned himself not to push her too hard. He needed her and was about to apologize when she began to talk.

“My mother was killed by a drunk driver,” Montero said quietly, but the words were filled with anguish. “The bastard walked on a technicality and never served a day in prison. I was just a kid. I couldn't believe he wasn't punished—the system had failed me. He drank himself to death before I was old enough to finish what the system failed to do. I know what you're thinking—and you're right. I'm part of that same system. On my watch, I owe it to the families of the victims to make sure that doesn't happen to them. Those who would harm me personally are a different story. They're dealt with immediately. I handle it myself so I don't have to worry about the system failing. I have a badge and a gun. Hell, the entire law enforcement community is only a radio call away. Three words: officer needs assistance, and everyone races to the scene, guns drawn. This is different. No one is looking for us. We have nothing.”

“We have each other and we have to work together to stop Strauss. We need to be ready to do anything to stop him, which means we need to stay focused. You need to maintain your rage for what he did to you and Alec.”

“You're saying we stop him no matter what, even if we have to die in the process?”

“If that's what it takes. Yes.” Donovan then asked the question that would impact Lauren and Abigail. “How long before everything about me is made public?”

“If my contact doesn't hear from me by tomorrow morning, he'll read the contents of the packet. He'll call a friend of mine who works for the Associated Press. After that, it won't be long before someone holds a press conference to tell the world what I uncovered.”

“If someone holds a press conference in Miami, I'm pretty sure the attention of the world will be focused elsewhere. The uproar about me won't last long once people start dying. The media will have something far bigger to talk about—like a large-scale anthrax attack.”

As each minute crawled by, Lauren felt even more fragmented. Abigail had been bathed and was asleep, but Lauren continued to rock her daughter, unwilling to face the world that waited outside the nursery. Over the course of the evening, she'd run the full range of emotions. From betrayal to self-pity, to anger that Donovan was dead, to the impossible hope that he was somehow still alive. She knew that the story would break soon and she'd be forced to run. Part of her was hoping it would happen so she could finally begin to deal with the new reality of her life. She felt caught in a vicious cycle that played over and over in her mind, each element of her personal disaster more overwhelming than the one before. She placed her daughter into her bed and quietly walked out of Abigail's bedroom. She was momentarily startled to find Buck standing in the hallway.

“I was just about to knock. Can we talk?” Buck said.

“Sure.” Lauren blinked back her momentary surprise. “What's on your mind?”

“I can't find any easy way to say this, so I'll come right to the point. Earlier, you were reluctant to open your bedroom door, but I saw the reflection in the mirror, you were filling suitcases. May I ask why you're packing? And please don't try and tell me you're going to Jamaica. From what I saw you were packing like you were going to be gone a long time.”

Buck had caught her, and there was no lie that was going to deflect his curiosity. “The walls of this house are closing in on me and it's only going to get worse. At some point Abigail and I are going to Europe.”

“Who's going to protect you over there?”

“I was hoping you'd take the job,” Lauren said just as Andy's voice crackled over Buck's radio.

“Buck, we've got a limousine with blacked-out windows and diplomatic plates headed our way.”

Buck reached for his pistol. “I need you to go back into Abigail's room and lock the door.”

Lauren felt the tears began to well up in her eyes. “It's someone coming to notify me they found Donovan, isn't it? The State Department.”

“I think we'd hear it from William. We'll both wait here until we know for sure.” Buck said to Lauren then clicked his microphone. “Andy, I'm upstairs with Dr. McKenna and Abigail. Check it out and report back.”

“Roger,” Andy replied. “They just pulled up in front.”

Lauren wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against the wall for support.

“The passenger is Aaron Keller. He's got credentials that identify him as a diplomat assigned to the Israeli Embassy here in Washington. He says he needs to speak with Dr. McKenna.”

“Do you know him?” Buck asked Lauren.

“I've never met him, or even heard of him, until day before yesterday. Donovan asked me to check him out.”

“Did he check out?”

“Most of it was classified, I didn't look very deep, just verified who he was and what position he held. According to the DIA database, he's Mossad.”

“Andy, we're coming downstairs,” Buck said. “How many men does this guy have with him?”

“He has a driver and a bodyguard. I checked; the FBI confirms he's legitimate. He insists he needs to speak to Dr. McKenna alone.”

“That's not happening,” Buck said. “Frisk him for weapons and then bring him to the front door—alone.”

Lauren dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “I can't imagine what Mossad wants with me.”

“Have you ever worked with them before?” Buck led the way down the stairs.

“There have been several joint assignments over the past few years. But names were never revealed.”

“I don't want you alone with this guy,” Buck said as they approached the front door. “I want to be in the room to listen to what this guy has to say.”

Lauren nodded.

Buck pulled the door open and invited Keller into the house. Outside, the Fairfax police closed ranks and blocked the limousine's exit.

“Dr. McKenna. Please pardon the intrusion. My name is Aaron Keller. I'm with the Israeli Embassy.”

Lauren studied the man. Medium to slight build, he was dressed in an expensive suit and he appeared to be in his mid to late forties with short brown hair and brown eyes. He stood relaxed and took in his environment. Despite a polished demeanor and a casual smile, Lauren sensed the same kind of understated superiority that Buck possessed.

“Mr. Keller, this is Mr. Buckley. He's in charge of my security. Can I offer you something to drink?”

“That's very kind of you, Dr. McKenna, but I'm afraid I can't stay very long. Is there someplace where we can talk in private?”

“Let's go into the living room, but I must insist that my head of security join us.”

“Of course, I understand,” Keller replied. “In light of recent events, I'm thankful for your time.”

Lauren led them into the living room where she switched on two lamps and sat down. Buck waited as Keller settled into the sofa across from Lauren before he too took a chair.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Keller?” Lauren said.

“First, I want to say how sorry I am about your loss. Your husband seemed like an exceptional man.”

“Thank you. When did you meet my husband?”

“Two nights ago in Florida,” Keller replied. “But then you
knew that because he sent you a photo of a man and no doubt asked you to check me out as well. I'm here as a courtesy, Dr. McKenna, but I need to know what else was discussed that evening.”

“Nothing of consequence. He'd been consulting with the FBI and then he was called away after the crash of the Pan Avia 767. I e-mailed him what little information I'd gathered.”

“You identified the man in the photo?”

“Yes. Nathan Strauss—he's one of yours.”

“Not exactly.” Keller put his fingertips together and brought them to his chin. “Mr. Strauss is a person of interest to my government, but we've been unable to locate him. I was hoping to enlist your help in narrowing that search.”

Lauren didn't for a second miss the fact that something had just gone off kilter. “If you want to locate a fellow Mossad officer, I'm sure the FBI would gladly assist.”

“Nathan Strauss is certainly not Mossad,” Keller replied. “At this point I don't know for sure if Mr. Strauss is involved in any of the recent events in Florida or here in Virginia, so I'm sure you can understand my reluctance to call in the FBI when there may be nothing amiss.”

“I'm certainly not a professional diplomat, but what I see is a Mossad agent trying to track down one of his own while maintaining enough distance to maintain plausible deniability.”

“Well said, Dr. McKenna.” Keller gave her a respectful nod. “There are, of course, diplomatic considerations in this matter, but first and foremost I'm trying to uncover the scope of Nathan Strauss's actions, if there are any. It is, however, a matter that directly impacts you and your daughter's safety.”

“Is that a threat?” Buck said, breaking his silence.

“I'm not the threat, but if it's Nathan Strauss we're dealing with, then he's most certainly a threat, one that you'll stand very little chance of stopping.”

“I can't help you,” Lauren replied. “I shouldn't even be talking
with you right now. I can't work with any member of a foreign government without the approval of my supervisor at the DIA.”

“Dr. McKenna, I believe there's a distinct possibility that Nathan Strauss and the death of your husband are linked. Your husband thought strongly enough about this threat that he teamed up with FBI Special Agent Montero to try and stop Strauss. I believe those actions were unsuccessful and may have resulted in their deaths. Nathan Strauss is as deadly as they come, and I need to find him.”

“What is it you think I can do?” Lauren replied.

“I have a theory, but I need access to the distress calls sent from the Eco-Watch plane. I have reason to believe that Strauss may have stolen the plane from Kingston. He would have then sent the distress calls to give the impression of a crash and then flown the airplane somewhere else. It's why there hasn't been any wreckage located.”

“Why would Strauss be in the cockpit of an Eco-Watch Gulfstream?” Lauren's mind was reeling with the sudden implications. “Wait, are you trying to tell me that my husband has been kidnapped? Do you think he might still be alive?”

Keller held up his palms. “Please, Dr. McKenna. I know what I've said comes as a shock. I'm very sorry. It's not my intention to offer up any false hope. In fact, I very much doubt that your husband, his first officer, or Special Agent Montero are still alive. If it's Strauss, he has no reason to keep hostages. He's trained to kill anyone who may be able to identify him. My theory is that Strauss stole the Gulfstream and kidnapped all aboard to cover his tracks.”

“What's the potential threat if Strauss has the Gulfstream?” Buck asked. “What can he do with it?”

“Anything he wants,” Keller replied. “Strauss was a Special Missions pilot within the Israeli Defense Force. For almost two decades he was involved in clandestine missions in a wide variety of aircraft, including the Gulfstream. Hands down, he's one of the most skillful pilots Israel has ever produced. If he has a Gulfstream, it's because it's the airplane he needs for his mission.”

“Is this something that Strauss has done before?” Buck asked. “Steal a plane and fake a crash?”

“All I can say is that the tactic, in theory, works,” Keller replied.

“Did he steal the Gulfstream from Boca Raton?” Lauren asked. “Is he the one who shot Michael Ross?”

“It's possible, though again, I have no proof.”

“You seem well informed,” Lauren said. “So you should know that actual Air Traffic Control tapes are never released to the public, transcripts perhaps, but not the actual tapes.”

“You and I are not the public.”

“What is it you hope to prove?” Buck said.

“I have a voice imprint of Nathan Strauss. I believe if we compare it to the actual distress call, we'll find a match.”

“Then what?” Buck asked.

“Then we have him positively linked to activity that requires the immediate action of both our governments. For obvious political reasons I would like to confirm this before I sound the alarm.”

“He's working without the knowledge of your government? Why? What went wrong?” Lauren asked. The possibility Donovan had been murdered made it difficult for her to collect her thoughts.

“Strauss was injured and forced to retire. I'll admit that perhaps my government didn't do enough to follow up on him. There is no forgiveness for our shortsightedness. Strauss suffered from injuries that virtually destroyed his right hip and damaged his lower vertebrae. It's a miracle he isn't confined to a wheelchair. In retrospect, it's thought that he also suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder. At some point, Strauss may have had a full psychotic break, possibly aided by the enormous amounts of narcotics he was forced to take to combat his chronic pain. We lost track of him, as well as three other pilots from his former unit, men who would follow him without question. Each of them is extremely dangerous.”