Jeffery Deaver - Edge

All in twenty minutes.

Before she could start the physics lecture, though, I asked, “So Zagaev cooperated and went on to live the American dream life?”

“He got married, had a couple of kids and didn’t have anything to do with his old life.”

A lot of that going around nowadays, I reflected, looking at Joanne.

“But for the last few years he seemed to become more religious, though the mosque he and his family go to now is moderate. He seems to lead a fairly secular life. He owns some carpet stores and a restaurant. His kids are in a good private school. He has been taking a few more trips overseas, Turkey a lot. The rugs, I guess. Saudi and Jordan.”

“Any watchlists?”

“No, none of ours and none in the U.K., Pakistani, India, Jordanian, Saudi or Israeli databases.”

On the surface, yes, innocent. But I still liked my idea of a deep sleeper cell.

DuBois continued with the rest of the information she knew I would want. She rattled off details about gun registrations (none, because he’d pled to a felony years ago and could not own firearms), state criminal convictions (none), traffic stops (one, crossing the white line prematurely to make a right turn), incriminating posts on social networking sites (none), cars, mortgages, medical records, unusual consumer product purchases, travel records and information about his rug operation and the restaurant.

I knew Williams’s people had given him a pass, but I still wasn’t convinced he was clean.

I disconnected. Joanne looked at me. She’d overheard everything. “You think it’s Zagaev?”

“I don’t know. We’re looking.”

“He seemed so inconsequential. I can’t see it.”

I sat in an armchair; the smell of ancient upholstery rose.

After a moment she said, “Thank you.”

I lifted an eyebrow.

“About Maree. You didn’t have to go after her. That wasn’t your job.”

“It was, yes. It’s not efficient to have your principals separated. Too much of a risk.”

She looked at me knowingly. “It was sure a risk to her, right?”

My voice lowered, though I knew Maree couldn’t hear. “She ran to the cliff by the river. But I don’t think she was going to jump.”

“But you couldn’t tell.”

“No, I couldn’t tell. She’s vulnerable. But not hopelessly lost.”

“Not like me.”

I said nothing; what was there to say? It was my task to keep my principals’ physical incarnations alive and theirs to protect their own souls and hearts.

“You know what my biggest mistake was, Corte? Thinking I could have it all. Doing what I did for Williams and then dropping the job cold, like it had never existed, and going for a family.” A nod toward the bedroom. “When I started running the teams, I thought a normal life was out of the question.” A sigh. “A while ago, one of my jobs went bad. I was shot. Pretty seriously.”

“Showed up as the car crash in the official documents.”

Joanne no longer seemed surprised at what I knew or surmised. “Plastic surgery on the entrance would so it looked like I’d been cut by a piece of wreckage.” A shallow smile. “They think of everything.” Then her mouth straightened. “But that was it for me having children.”

“I see. I’m sorry.”

A shake of her head, surely reflecting dismay at what Ryan’s reaction would be to this news. “After it happened, and I was in therapy, I didn’t care. It was like getting shot was a sign that I was meant to keep going with Sickle. But then I met Ryan and his daughter. I realized what I’d missed. So I went for it. But it was stupid. I should never’ve gone with the organization in the first place or I should’ve stayed and never gotten married, tried to be a wife and mother.” A weak smile. “I’m surprised I lasted six years before I got busted. You can’t have both lives, Corte. You know that too. The difference is you’re honest about it. You didn’t even try.”

I found myself looking down, involuntarily. Joanne added, “Or maybe you did try and it didn’t work out either… I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

I gave no reaction. I was relieved when my phone buzzed. “I have to take this.”

“Sure.”

I rose, stepped away and hit ANSWER. “Freddy? What do you have?”

“Something good, Corte. The bear theory worked out. You were right. Listen to this. About fifteen minutes ago we had a SIG-INT hit on a mobile registered to the brother of somebody who works for Annandale Carpet-Zagaev’s company. Our boxes ran a voice print analysis of both callers. We had Zagaev’s voice on tape from way back when and it registered positive, which we expected. But what we didn’t expect was that the fellow he was chatting away with was a guy you might’ve heard of. Henry Loving.”

I froze, hunched over the desk.

“We ran it through three computers and tested the sample against four snippets from Loving in the past. There’s no doubt it’s him.”

“What’d they say?”

“It was typical code. Zagaev asked how was the delivery coming. Loving said, ‘There’ve been a few delays. The job site in Loudoun, White’s Ferry, was closed down. That deal fell through.’”

Trying to kidnap Amanda, they meant.

“Zagaev said he’d told Loving he didn’t want to pursue that part of the job in the first place. Loving said it didn’t matter now anyway; he’d given up on it. Then he said he was working hard to find some other options in Virginia. They would talk again in a few hours. He might want to pick up what they’d talked about before. Just to be safe.”

“Any triangulation at all?”

“No, happened too fast. They both took their batteries out when they were through talking. But we’ve got Zagaev’s GPS, and five minutes after he hung up, he started driving. We’ve got people headed in his direction.”

“He’s going to pick up something,” I mused. “What?”

“We’ll find out.”

I considered this information. “Okay, so he’s given up trying for Amanda as his edge.”

Joanne turned toward me at this.

I continued to Freddy, “But what does he mean by ‘other options’ in Virginia?”

“Maybe that Loving and his partner are going after friends or relatives of Joanne. That could be it. Maybe he’s looking for the sister right now, Maree. He might not know she’s with you. I’ll let you know when we get a visual.”

We disconnected.

I said to Joanne, “It’s Zagaev. He’s been talking to Loving. Positive voice prints.”

A brief flash of dismay in her face, recognition of the confirmation that she was in fact responsible for what had happened. Yet then her eyes grew hopeful; the corollary of Zagaev’s guilt, of course, was that we had a solid lead. “Whereabouts?”

“Freddy’s putting surveillance in place. SIG-INT and on the ground. For now we wait.”

Her laugh was colored with cynicism and perhaps a bit of sorrow. “Waiting. I’ve done my share of that in this business. I suppose it’s the same for you… And you mentioned Amanda?”

“Loving’s given up looking for her. He’s going for another edge. We don’t know who or what.”

Joanne was staring at an old photograph on the wall: a family in nineteenth-century clothing.

Ten long, long minutes later the phone rang again.

“Go ahead, Freddy,” I said urgently.

“Corte, listen to this.” The man’s voice was surprisingly animated, for a change. “Getting better. We tracked Zagaev to a warehouse in Springfield. He goes inside, gets some weapons.”

My heart was racing. “He can’t touch a gun, not with his felony plea.”

“Exactly, son. Hold on.” A pause. Freddy then said, “Okay, he just left and our people’re with him.”