Andrew Grant - Even

The briefing for the first exercise was pretty basic. They told us eight terrorists were holding two hostages in an abandoned vicarage. As far as they knew, the terrorists were dispersed throughout the premises and the hostages were in a windowless room on the second floor. I was allocated to the first rescue team. There was me, another navy guy, and four special ops soldiers who weren’t too keen on working with us.

The navy guy and I created a diversion, pretending to attack through the basement. The soldiers went through four separate ground-floor windows, entering simultaneously and tearing through the building like wildfire. We came in after them and helped with the sweep. Between us we found the terrorists-only six, it turned out-and neutralized them easily enough with orange paintballs. The hostages were harder to track down. They’d been moved to a tiny cupboard in the attic. One was injured. She was barely conscious, and bleeding badly. Her companion was in a blind panic, convinced she was going to die. The soldiers slapped on a battlefield dressing and started to haul them out. Only by the time we reached the front door, all of us were covered in sweet-smelling red jelly. Because the hostages were already dead. The women were the seventh and eighth terrorists. And no one had found the remote detonator in the casualty’s shoe.

We didn’t have to take part in any more hostage exercises after that. In fact, there weren’t any. The whole thing had been staged. The soldiers had been in on it from the start. And the point wasn’t to teach us how to storm a building. It was to hammer home something entirely different. To take nothing and no one at face value.

Or, as I’ve found over the years, it’s usually the person you’re least expecting who causes the most trouble.

It was a ten-minute cab ride back to the FBI building so I made sure to use the time carefully. First I called for someone to come over and scoop up Taylor and his boys. Then I settled back to think. If I could make sure every angle was covered, there was a chance I could get Varley to sign me off the job after the 12:00 P.M. conference. That way I could take the rest of the afternoon for myself, have dinner with Tanya, and be back in London by suppertime tomorrow. Or suppertime the next day, if things went really well. Only I’d been as far as JFK already, yesterday morning. I didn’t want anyone pulling the rug out again today.

I was expecting some heavy flak after visiting Taylor on my own, and I could see I was right about Varley’s reaction before the meeting even started. He crashed through the boardroom doors, stomped over to his place, and sat there glowering at me until Tanya arrived. He let me talk first, but I guess that news of the arrests had reached him through the grapevine because he interrupted, sniped, and criticized at every turn as I brought the others up to date. Weston and Lavine weren’t much more constructive. But as the briefing wore on they began to see the possibilities. Bringing down organ smugglers is hard to beat for headline potential. Especially when the operation spans five cities. Coordinating something like that is a dream for career development. A task force would be needed. Leading roles would be up for grabs. Practical details started to dominate the discussion. And no actions were coming my way. There was no mention of James Mansell, so no need for a British presence in general. They had Taylor in custody, so no need for me in particular. Things were looking good.

Until I realized I was looking in the wrong direction. If anyone was going to trip me up, it wouldn’t be the FBI. It would be Tanya.

“I don’t agree,” she said, out of the blue. “What you’re proposing, it’ll take too long. It’s turning into a circus. We should hit the New York clinic now. This afternoon. There’s no time to delay.”

“We can’t do that,” Varley said. “We need confirmation that no other agencies are already into this. They could have people in there, undercover. Then we need surveillance. As of now, we have no idea what we’d be walking into. Or whether the big fish are even there. And we need foolproof cooperation from the other cities. It’s no good taking one crew down and letting four more walk away.”

“And something else,” Weston said. “The other end. Iraq. We need someone to sweep that mess up.”

“What a jurisdictional nightmare that’ll be,” Lavine said.

“I’m not a fool,” Tanya said. “I understand the big picture. But while you’re worrying about ‘what if this’ and ‘what if that’ the people we really want will be long gone. David proved that. Look how Taylor reacted.”

“We don’t know who’s involved,” Varley said. “We don’t know how many there are. We don’t have names or faces. And you’ve picked out targets?”

“Yes,” Tanya said. “The people who ordered the five murders. They’re the ones that count. Lives are worth more than money, however much we’re talking about.”

“Agreed,” Varley said. “And we’re going to take them. Because I know what you’re thinking. They’re to blame for your friend’s death. Well, the way I see it, they’re to blame for Mike Raab’s death, as well. Lesley’s guy pulled the trigger, but Mike’s path only crossed because Tungsten was dropping bodies everywhere. These guys, they’re top of the list. We’ll get them. Have faith.”

“Those are just words,” Tanya said. “I want action. We’re not going to get anyone, sitting here. I want us to do something, now.”

She was starting to sound alarmingly like me.

“OK,” Varley said. “What?”

“We know they’re at the clinic,” Tanya said. “A few streets away. Taylor told David. So we find another reason. Tax evasion. Operating without a medical license. Immigration issues. Anything. Then throw a net over the others later, when you’re ready.”

“No,” Varley said. “And don’t obsess over later. We’re not talking days. As soon as we’re done here, we’ll get onto INS. Kyle will get the tech crews rolling. I’ll liaise with the other cities, personally. I’ll talk to the overseas guys, as well. Then, when we know the who and the where, we’ll move. It’ll be tomorrow morning, at the latest.”

“What if Taylor warns them before tomorrow?” Tanya said.

“We’ll up the watch on the airports,” Lavine said. “All flights in and out of that region.”

“And Taylor can’t warn anyone,” Varley said. “He’s in jail. They’re holding him in solitary.”

“What if he already did?” Tanya said. “David left him alone in the apartment. He could have phoned before you picked him up.”

“The phone was broken,” I said.

“How do you know?” Tanya said. “Did you check?”

“No. I broke it,” I said.

“What about their cell phones?” Tanya said.

“They lost their cell phones,” I said.

“All three of them?” Tanya said. “Doesn’t seem likely.”

I reached into my pocket and laid the three phones on the table.

“What if his disappearance spooks them?” Tanya said.

“Tanya, I know you’re frustrated,” I said. “And no one cuts more corners than me. But this is not the time. The organ smuggling, the hit on Simon, finding Mansell, they’re part of the same thing. We’ve led the horse to water. Now leave it. It’s up to these guys to make it drink.”

Varley took Weston and Lavine downstairs to hit the phones, leaving me to keep an eye on Tanya. He didn’t trust her to stay away from the clinic until we reconvened at 5:00 P.M. The conversation left me wrong-footed. One minute he was shooting me daggers, the next swearing me in like I was his deputy. All I needed was a tin badge. It was a strange role to give me. And not one I was interested in playing.