Andrew Britton - The Assassin

She hadn’t considered it before, but now she realized that the huge crowds would be just as good a target as the UN itself. The thought brought on a fresh wave of nausea, but she managed to push it down before Best noticed anything wrong.

“So,” he said, jolting her out of her reverie. “How exactly do you think Hakim Rudaki fits into this, ah, rather cryptic scenario?”

“Sir, we haven’t been able to link Rudaki to any of this, but the fact remains that there is a huge discrepancy between what he’s been telling you and what we’ve dug up on our own. Most of what we have is pointing toward an Iraqi mastermind, probably someone associated with the insurgency. Rudaki, however, has insisted all along that the Iranians were behind the bombing of the Babylon Hotel and the assassination of Nasir Tabrizi.”

Best nodded slowly, but instead of addressing her point, he made one of his own. “As far as I’m concerned, Ms. Kharmai, the question is not the veracity of what Rudaki’s been telling us, but how you even know who he is. His identity was tightly held within this office.”

Naomi knew that this was not a time to step back. “Sir, this is a big place, and people talk. To be honest, I’m not privy to that information, but either way, it doesn’t really matter how we know. What matters is whether or not he’s telling the truth.”

“Why would he lie?”

“That’s exactly what I plan to ask him.” They looked at each steadily, neither giving an inch.

Finally, Best leaned forward in his seat and rested his arms on top of his desk. “Ms. Kharmai, do you know why you’re here?”

The question caught her off-guard. “What do you mean?”

“You’re here because the director of Central Intelligence called my boss in Washington and asked for a favor. To be honest, we don’t want anything to do with you people after what happened with Anthony Mason in Alexandria, but the director does not want to bring the president into another interagency spat. We’re taking this information seriously — we can’t afford not to — but we don’t appreciate your interference, particularly when it comes to our confidential informants.”

Naomi couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Sir, this isn’t about credit or some stupid rivalry. This is about stopping a major terrorist attack on U.S. soil.”

Best clenched his jaw, his face turning purple. “I’m aware of that, Ms. Kharmai, and I don’t appreciate being lectured in my own office. I don’t know how they do things at the Agency, but-”

His tirade was cut short by a firm knock at the door. Easing back into his chair, Best shot her a menacing glare and spoke in a loud voice aimed at the door. “What is it?”

Matt Foster poked his head in. “Sir, Crane just called in. She’s held up at the minute, but she said she’ll be back by two.”

Best looked annoyed. “What’s the holdup? She’s with Rudaki, right?”

Foster shot a curious look at Naomi, obviously wondering why Best would use the informant’s name in her presence. “That’s right, sir. By the way, I’m out of here.”

“Why, what’s happening?”

“We got a lead on one of those carriers. The company is run by an Iranian right here in Manhattan. According to our records, he was naturalized back in ’86. He has an SCAC, he’s listed with customs, and one of his trucks came in from Canada carrying a heavy load last night. It looks like a solid lead. I’m gonna run over and check it out.”

Best looked at his watch and said, “Take somebody with you. O’Farrell.”

“O’Farrell isn’t here, sir, but I’ll find someone on the way out.”

“Fine.”

Naomi had listened to the conversation with interest, each sentence sparking a different emotion. She was annoyed that Rudaki wasn’t going to arrive until 2:00 p.m., which was nearly three hours away, but she was thrilled that he was with Crane, which probably meant they were at the safe house on Vyse Avenue. Ryan might still have a shot at getting to them. Above all, she wanted to know more about this possible lead. Iranian owner, SCAC, heavy load… It sounded promising. But again, with the Iranians… Despite herself, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of doubt. Maybe they’d gotten it wrong all along.

Before the young agent had closed the door, she called out for him to stop. He poked his head back in and shot her a curious glance. Best looked equally perplexed.

Naomi addressed the older man. “Sir, I was told I’d be able to see Rudaki immediately.”

“I’m sorry, but it can’t be helped. I’m sure there’s a good reason for the delay.”

“Good reason or not, I don’t want to sit around for three hours waiting on him. With your permission, I’d like to tag along with Agent Foster.”

Best laughed. “Absolutely not.”

The smug look on his face pushed her over the edge. She shot him the hardest look she had and said, “Sir, you said you wanted to avoid an interagency spat, right? Well, my superiors are behind me a hundred percent on this, so if you jerk me around here, I’ll be forced to call them and say we’re not getting the cooperation we were promised. I don’t know about you, but I could see word getting to the president pretty fast after that, and I don’t think he’d be too happy… especially if it turns out that we were right and you were wrong.”

Best stared at her incredulously. From the corner of her eye, Naomi could see that Foster was also completely stunned.

“Kharmai, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you have some fucking nerve, coming in here and-”

“Sir, there’s no harm in it,” Foster said, recovering quickly. The two men shared a meaningful look, and Best sat back in his chair, breathing heavily. Naomi suddenly got the impression that the ADIC was a man with a quick temper who relied on his subordinates to help him keep it in check. “As long as she’s not armed.”

Best looked at her. “Are you?”

“No.” She decided it was time to back down a little. “Sir, I don’t want to cause any problems. Just let me tag along with your agent here until Rudaki gets back.” She looked at Foster. “It won’t take too long, will it?”

He shook his head. “We only need to make a few stops. I want to talk with the Iranian and two others. I don’t have to cross the bridge. Shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.”

Naomi turned back to Best expectantly. Finally, he nodded slowly. “If it gets you out of here, I guess I don’t see the harm.”

“Good. And thank you.” She grabbed her purse and avoided his angry gaze as she followed Foster out the door. The confrontation had left her drained, and suddenly, she couldn’t wait to be out of the building. When the door closed behind them, Foster gave her a look that fell somewhere between disbelief and admiration.

“You have some guts. I don’t think anyone’s ever talked like that to him in his life.”

She shrugged like it was nothing, but in truth, she was feeling quite proud of herself. “Well, I think he was asking for it.”

He looked at her for a moment longer, shaking his head in amusement. Then he nodded toward the exit. “You ready?”

“Yep. Let’s go.”

NEW YORK CITY

On Vyse Avenue in the South Bronx, Kealey sat behind the wheel of his rented Accord, his whole body taut, his eyes alert and watchful. The vehicle was parked just north of 173rd Street, directly behind a rusting, paint-stripped Camry covered in peeling bumper stickers. In front of the Camry was the blue Crown Victoria. The street was completely empty, but after a few minutes, he looked up at his rearview mirror and saw what he’d been waiting for. The three Latino teenagers that had confronted him earlier were approaching from the south, walking side by side like something out of a bad gangster movie.