Cliff Ryder - Aim And Fire

But if a day ever came where a terrorist group managed to stay off America’s radar until they struck, then she didn’t want to see what would happen in the aftermath. That’s one of the reasons I’m in this job in the first place, and supposed to be good at it. But all I’ve got is three men, a truck and a nuke to go on…a truck…

Something about the truck bothered her, but before Kate could grasp it, her computer chirped, signaling an incoming call. Let’s see, who am I this time? she wondered. It was from Robert Lashti. Hmm, I hope this is interesting.

Kate tilted her chair forward and slipped on her wireless headset. “This is Primary.”

“Primary, this is Alpha. I’ve got some information on that switched package you’ll find interesting.”

“Go ahead, Alpha.”

“The acquaintance I made recently was very informative. He said that one of Kryukov’s men had run a side deal with a man claiming to be with a group known as the Fist of Allah. The buyer paid Kryukov’s man at least two million for the suitcase and its contents. They mentioned a ship going to Mexico in front of the seller, not knowing that he spoke Arabic.”

“Mexico? He’s sure of that, Alpha?”

“If you’ve ever watched the Chinese interrogate someone, you wouldn’t ask that question, Primary. Mexico is confirmed as the suitcase’s destination. He didn’t know anything beyond that.”

“Great work, Alpha. Time to come on home.”

“With pleasure, Primary. Just one thing—when Kryukov pops up on our radar again, I want a shot at him.”

“I can’t guarantee that, but we’ll see what we can do.

Primary out.”

As Kate disconnected, her computer chirped again. It was Tracy. That girl must be psychic, she thought.

“Agent Stephanie Cassell,” Kate said.

“Stephanie, it’s Tracy.”

“It’s good to hear from you. Are you all right?” Kate already knew the answer—although from what they had heard during the chase, she and Denny had had their doubts until it was over—but she couldn’t mention that at the moment.

“Yes, apparently I got a less-than-traditional border welcome here.”

Kate heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort or guffaw in the background, and a quick check of the camera revealed that they were in a truck of some kind.

“What did you find out?” she asked.

Tracy took a few moments to fill her in on what they had discovered, which wasn’t much. “The best thing we can say is that there was definitely something radioactive in that barn in the last two days, but that’s it. I’ve got the team staying up all night analyzing the soil if they have to, but it’s doubtful they’ll come up with anything useful in the next twelve hours.”

“Okay. I’m pleased to let you know we’ve confirmed that the device was delivered to Mexico, but after the killings in the desert, the trail goes cold. We’ve been crunching data here, as well, but haven’t come up with anything else. We’ve been concentrating on nontraditional vectors, but there’s way too many of them to evaluate quickly, even just in the area. What about your partner, does he have any ideas?” Kate asked.

“Oh, he’s got ideas, all right. It’s just that he’s a bit re-luctant to share them.”

“Well, now isn’t the time to be holding out. Shall I talk to him?”

“I don’t know if that will do any good, but…” Kate heard muffled voices in the background.

“Yes, Special Agent Cassell, how may I help you?”

The file Kate had reviewed on Nate Spencer had indicated that he was a cowboy, in law-enforcement parlance—aguy who got the job done, but who took unacceptable risks compared to the results. He was a good agent, but one that chafed under authority. Kate could relate. Figuring the quickest way to get through to him would be with brute power, she didn’t mince words.

“Agent Spencer, are you confident that you are doing everything in your power to assist in this investigation?”

“Yes, ma’am, we are pursuing every approved lead we’ve uncovered. In fact, we’re heading to a new source of information at this moment, but I’m afraid that I cannot say any more than that at this time.”

“I understand. Have there been any issues with Agent Wentworth that you wish to discuss?”

“She has performed her job superbly in all regards and is a pleasure to work with.”

“Very well. Then I’ll let you get back to it. Thank you, Agent Spencer, and good luck.”

“I never believe luck has anything to do with it, ma’am.”

“Well said. Keep us informed as to any new develop-ments.” Kate disconnected just as an e-mail popped up on her screen from NiteMaster, another of Room 59’s hackers.

Hey boss,

Here’s the list. Keep in mind that this does not bear any relation to that distasteful law-enforcement practice known as racial profiling, and I will deny any implica-tion as such. Hope it helps.

NM

Kate grinned. The list was a summary of the racial backgrounds of the employees of all the various transportation and other companies that might have the capability to deliver such a weapon within a hundred miles of El Paso. The problem was a suitcase nuke could be easily hidden so every freight company, truck and rental-car agency, small-airplane service, cab company, train line, courier service, import-export company and pretty much any that worked with boxes or vehicles had been tagged.

In clear violation of several federal laws, NiteMaster had cross-referenced the ethnic backgrounds of each company’s employee roster, looking for a certain percentage of Middle Eastern or Indian workers. The prevailing logic was that the cell most likely worked together, perhaps at the same company, or in similar lines of work. However, even that list had more than one hundred companies on it.

With a weary sigh, Kate split the list into two parts, sending the A-M section to Denny, and keeping the N-Z for herself. She added a note:

Denny,

I don’t care if you parcel this out or handle it yourself, but I need the ten most likely candidates for our loose nuke from your list by 0800 hours tomorrow. Have fun—Iknow I will.

Kate

She looked at the first company on her list. “All right, let’s see what’s cooking at the Nabcon Waste Removal Company.

Oh, yeah, another night of glamorous data crunching.”

Tracy thought she had reined in her temper fairly well at the hospital, but Nate’s actions since then had put her on a slow boil, and now she felt her anger building like steam—white and scalding hot.

After he had hung up with Stephanie, he handed the phone back to her and didn’t say a word as they drove back to headquarters. He signed out what was obviously an undercover vehicle, a late-nineties Chevrolet Silverado with tinted windows. He didn’t say anything as they got in and headed back to the south side of El Paso. They pulled into a cul-de-sac as the sun began to sink below the horizon. He parked about a block and a half away from a two-story stucco house hosting a loud party. Every light was on, and loud music was blasting from a sound system as figures clad in baggy shorts and jerseys or tank tops wandered in and out, drinking, smoking and talking.

Nate took his binoculars out and scanned the house, looking at the partygoers for several minutes.

Finally, Tracy couldn’t stand it any longer. “All right, I’ll bite. Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here, or do I get the silent treatment until the bomb goes off, and we have to explain to our superiors how, when the terrorists were blowing up the city, we were sitting on our asses watching gangbangers?”

Nate lowered the glasses and handed them to her. “Take a look out there and tell me what you see.”