Peter Kirsanow - Target Omega

The sudden intense look on Dwyer’s face projected a mixture of loyalty and protectiveness. Because there was so little artifice to Dwyer, Olivia thought she detected that he was being less than candid about his relationship with Garin. Not deceitful exactly, but also not completely forthcoming.

“Mr. Dwyer…”

“Dan,” Dwyer reminded her.

“We’re not out to get Michael Garin. In fact, I don’t know him, but I’d tend to agree that he had nothing to do with the assassination of his team. I’m told Garin is very talented, but for one man to assassinate seven… It doesn’t seem feasible.

“It really comes down to this: The Middle East is currently on a trip wire; it’s no mystery that the Iranians would like to wipe Israel off the face of the earth; to do so requires deliverable WMD. Garin is the sole surviving member of a highly specialized counter-WMD team. It’s quite possible the rest of the team was killed by someone trying to prevent information from getting out. So Michael Garin, consciously or not, may have knowledge that someone desperately wants covered up. Information that may concern WMD that could be used against Israel. I don’t need to tell you the implications of such use.”

“No, you don’t. I’ve been warning Senate Intelligence about those implications for some time. Everyone acts like if they ignore the problem, it’ll go away. It won’t and it’s not. It’s at our doorstep. Right now.”

Matt appeared at Dwyer’s elbow. “Sir, Jack Elliott’s here.”

“That’s my lawyer, Olivia,” Dwyer explained as he rose to his feet. “I’m going to a barbecue in the Hart Senate Office Building, and I’m the main course. Matt will be happy to see you out. I’m afraid I haven’t been much help to you. I don’t know what to say.” Dwyer shrugged apologetically.

Olivia stood and shook Dwyer’s hand. “Thank you for your time, Dan, and good luck with Senate Intelligence. Let me know if something occurs to you. And if it does, let me know fast. Given how quickly things are developing in the Middle East, I don’t think we have very much time.”

CENTRAL NEW YORK STATE

JULY 15 8:40 A.M. EDT

Asign over the convenience store promised sixteen ounces of the best coffee in Broome County for only $1.19. Judging by the number of cars parked along the store’s front curb, the claim appeared highly exaggerated.

Garin had subsisted on protein bars and water for the last twenty-four hours. He would’ve preferred a breakfast of eggs, home fries, toast, and coffee while comfortably seated at a table in the roadside pancake house he had passed thirty minutes ago, but having spent the night sleeping in the woods, he thought he would spare the other patrons the dubious pleasure of his company.

Garin parked as far from the other vehicles as possible and reached under his seat for his pistol. He shoved it into the waistband holster at the small of his back and covered it with his shirt.

The gym bag in the passenger seat contained nearly fifty thousand dollars in cash. He unzipped it and pulled out two hundred dollars, a baseball cap, and sunglasses. He put on the cap and glasses and popped the trunk. No need to give a curious thief any ideas; before entering the store he put the bag in the trunk and locked the vehicle.

The interior of the store was a frigid contrast to the rising heat and humidity of the morning. Garin first searched for any security cameras inside. He spotted cameras on each end of the back wall, one near the entrance to the restroom and another over the cash register. The cashier, a plump woman in her early twenties, pointed helpfully to the back, where pots of coffee were lined up under several coffee machines.

Before heading for the coffee, Garin grabbed one of the small baskets near the door and proceeded down the first aisle, filling it with an assortment of powdered doughnuts, candy bars, and other junk food. He was usually scrupulous about his diet, but he believed that it was a good idea to defer on occasion to the body’s natural cravings for unaldulterated junk.

Garin faced the store’s floor-to-ceiling exterior window while shopping for chocolate bars, giving him a clear view of the parking lot, where a man with jug ears was getting out of the passenger side of a Ford Taurus. He appeared Middle Eastern, as did the driver.

As the man walked toward the entrance, Garin noticed the second Ford Taurus in the back of the store’s parking lot, about fifty feet directly behind the Crown Vic. Two men were seated in the car watching the storefront.

The sentinels.

They wouldn’t try to kill him here. They would wait until he drove to a more secluded area somewhere down the road. Right now, they were simply keeping tabs on him. Jughead would browse around the store until Garin left. Then one of the cars would leave ahead of Garin, in the direction that he had been driving before he’d stopped at the store. A second car would follow behind Garin. They would stay far enough from Garin’s car not to raise his suspicions, but close enough to strike at an opportune moment. Garin would not give them that opportunity.

Jughead moved casually about the store, feigning interest in an item and then moving on. He was weaving up and down the narrow aisles, gradually making his way toward the rear of the store, where Garin was pouring himself a large coffee.

As Garin busied himself with finding a lid and cup sleeve, he examined the periphery to locate the only other customer. He was looking at the newspapers at the front of the store, his back to Garin. The cashier’s attention seemed to be absorbed in some paperwork.

The sentinel strolled down the aisle next to where Garin was putting the finishing touches on his coffee. Garin placed both the coffee and his basket of junk food on the counter and, with a look that conveyed that he’d just remembered something else he needed, walked to the aisle where Jughead was inspecting packages of AAA batteries.

Garin made a show of searching the shelves as he approached the sentinel, who looked up and politely smiled as Garin drew near. Garin returned the smile with a nod and a violent thrust of the three middle fingers of his left hand into the sentinel’s throat, crushing his windpipe. In a smooth motion, Garin caught the sentinel around the waist before he collapsed, and lowered him gently to the floor. The man emitted strained wheezing sounds, choking futilely for air as Garin wrapped his right arm around the man’s head and his left around his neck. With a brutal twist he snapped the sentinel’s neck, killing him instantly.

Garin rose to check the premises. The other two occupants were oblivious to what had just occurred. There was no doubt, however, that a review of the security recording would reveal a muscular man in a cap and dark glasses assaulting a somewhat smaller Middle Eastern man.

He grabbed the sentinel by the back of his collar and dragged him silently across the floor, around the corner at the end of the aisle, and into the employees’ restroom, where he deposited him on the floor of the stall. Garin checked for a pulse in the sentinel’s neck and, satisfied that he was dead, rummaged through the dead man’s clothes for any identification. Finding a wallet in the sentinel’s right rear pocket, Garin stuffed it into his front pocket, though he would be surprised if it contained any useful information. He took his SIG from the small of his back and inserted it into his waistband in front, making sure it was covered with his shirt before emerging from the restroom.

The other patron had left while Garin was stashing the body. Garin casually collected his basket and coffee and went to the checkout register, where the cashier rang up the sale and placed everything but the coffee in a paper shopping bag.