Iris Johansen - Chasing the Night

Catherine shook her head and moved on.

Her fifteen-minute window the NSA had given her was almost up. She knew those bastards. It would take a miracle to get them to extend that time.

Call, Rakovac, she prayed. Call now.

2:14 P.M.

“We’re releasing the focus on the Ling phone in one minute,” Helder said when Joe picked up the phone. “This is your official notification.”

“Is it?” Joe said softly. “How kind of you to let us know.”

“It’s policy,” Helder said. “We’re not happy. This has been a complete waste of our time.”

“I believe Venable has informed you that this may be a matter of Homeland Security.”

“May,” Helder repeated. “Do you know how often we get agencies telling us the same thing? We can’t let every little threat cause us to disrupt our schedule.”

“I’m sure an important unit like yours is swamped. We’re very grateful.”

“One minute,” Helder repeated.

“You don’t care that it’s very likely a national emergency that might kill thousands of citizens?”

“You haven’t given me proof. I gave you your window. That’s it.”

“No, it’s not,” Joe added a thread of steel to the softness of his voice. “You’ll give us as long as it takes. And you’ll ask permission to take your satellite anywhere else.”

There was an astonished silence. “Screw you.”

“Listen carefully, Helder. You like your job? Of course you do. It gives a stunning amount of power to a man whose life was destined to be humdrum. But it can be taken away from you in a heartbeat.”

“By you?” Helder jeered. “You have no authority. I don’t even know why Venable let you become involved. I have ten years’ seniority and experience with the NSA.”

“You also have an arrogance that the general public finds offensive in public servants. Particularly when it concerns their safety. I’ve recorded our conversations. I’m going to play it back to you.” He turned the switch and played the recording. “As you can hear, you stated you cared nothing about aiding Homeland Security. Nor were you willing to stretch the time you allowed us even after it was stated that a public emergency existed. It didn’t sound warm and caring, did it?”

Silence. “What do you intend to do with that?”

“Your boss, media…I haven’t decided. It would be particularly damaging if there was really a national emergency. I think probably a vigilante posse might lynch you.”

“It wouldn’t matter. I’d apologize and say I was goaded.”

“Why bother? The problem goes away the minute you agree to keep the satellite fixed on Catherine Ling’s phone until I tell you it’s no longer necessary.”

Another silence. “I might consider it.”

“You’ll do it,” Joe said. “Because I’ll tell you why Venable thought I could deal with you. I don’t care, Helder. Not about my job, or my superiors, or what anyone thinks of me. You’re right, I don’t have authority because it would just get in my way. That leaves me free to use blackmail or violence or anything necessary to stop that attack from happening. I don’t play by the rules. If you decide having this disk aired won’t bother you, I’ll find another way to take you down.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “Now, do we work together to get this done?”

Helder hesitated before saying jerkily, “The NSA is always willing to cooperate in any security endeavor.”

“Then call me after you have the completed trace, even if you have to wait for another hour.” He hung up.

Venable was gazing ruefully at him. “You realize you’ve put the CIA-NSA relationship in dire danger?”

“Then keep the disk on hand,” he said indifferently. “Or call me, and I’ll have another talk with Helder.”

Venable’s brows rose. “You really don’t care.”

“I care about Eve. I care about my daughter, Jane. I care about my country. None of the rest is worth worrying about.” He checked his watch again. “It’s 2:17 P.M. No call. Catherine is probably ready to explode…”

It was 2:25, Catherine saw in despair as she glanced at her watch.

Rakovac had done it again. It would be a miracle if that NSA satellite was still aimed at her.

And there were at least three men focusing their attention on her. She had been scanning the crowd as she moved from booth to booth and spotted Rakovac’s men. One short, burly man in a yellow Windbreaker, a taller, thin man in an olive green sweatshirt, the third man had been a huge man in a gray cap and red sweater, but he had disappeared from view shortly after she had spotted him. It wasn’t difficult to identify them as Rakovac’s men when they were trying so hard not to look at her and to appear casual in a venue that was clearly not their cup of tea.

It was okay. Now that she knew with whom she had to contend, she could be on watch. They wouldn’t move on her with this many witnesses. The crowds were proving as helpful to her as she had thought when she had set up the call for this marketplace.

Two twenty-six.

Blast it, at this rate, the market would close before she heard from-

Her cell phone rang.

She grabbed it and punched the button. “You took your time, Rakovac.”

“I don’t like orders. And I have all the time in the world. You, on the other hand, do not. Nor does Luke.”

“I don’t think you have all that much time. You keep telling me that you’re being forced to bring our relationship to a close. Why?”

“That’s none of your concern, Catherine. Though I may tell you before the end what splendors my life is going to hold. It will make your final moments all the more bitter.”

“Cut to the chase. Where do you want me to go? I’m sure that your three goons have told you that neither Duncan nor Quinn are with me here at the market.”

“You’ve spotted them? Of course you have.”

“Short, burly man in a yellow Windbreaker, a tall, thin man, a giant who looked like a weight lifter.”

“That would be Zeller, Sminoff, and the giant is Borzoi. Borzoi may look like he’s got more muscle than brains, but actually he’s the pick of the bunch. I thought you’d spot them. You’re very experienced, and Borzoi’s men aren’t as subtle as I’d hope. But they’re good at the basics, so I tolerate them. Yes, Borzoi reported that Duncan and Quinn have left you to your own devices. So I think we can proceed. I want you to meet me at St. Basil’s Cathedral in two hours, and we’ll start the journey to your Luke.”

“I’ll meet you at St. Basil’s, but I’m not getting in any car with you. I’ll follow you in my own car.”

He chuckled. “Incredible. You’re still hopeful of being able to whisk him away from me.”

“I’m still hopeful, period. What else have I got? But I know that hope will go straight down the tubes, and it will all be over the minute I get in any car with you.”

“True. And I have no objection to stretching out the end a little longer. By all means, follow me.” He paused. “As long as you can slip away from my men. They have orders to capture and bring you to me.” He added with sly malice, “And, as you say, that will be the beginning of the end.” He hung up.

She drew a deep breath and shoved the phone into her pocket. Had NSA managed to trace the call? Rakovac had called so late that it was doubtful that they’d hung around for it. She wanted to call Joe, but that would be a dead giveaway to the three goons, who were monitoring her every move.

Okay, get away from them. Leave the market. She’d call Joe as soon as she lost them. Then she’d have only two hours to find a place to rent a car and get to St. Basil’s.

She started moving in and out of the crowds as she made her way toward the streets bordering the market. The man in the yellow Windbreaker was following, so was the one in the olive green sweatshirt. Zeller and Sminoff, Rakovac had called them. But where was the huge man, Borzoi, who she had spotted ten minutes ago, then lost in the crowd?