True Honor (20 page)

Darcy nodded. “Jerry is also a highly wanted man. Why draw the added lightning? Wherever he’s hiding, Luther must truly think he’s safe again to take the chance of sending Vladimir out to make this contact.”

“He probably calculated that it’s worth the risk. Luther is out to hire the best.”

“Who’s the target?”

“You don’t hire Jerry if you want to shoot the local drug dealer.”

Darcy studied the logs. “Yemen. We had the ports covered. Why couldn’t he have taken a boat like we expected? And what happened to good airport security?”

“Ten to one, bribed and threatened,” Gabe replied. “This isn’t all bad news. Vladimir is vulnerable for the first time in months,” Gabriel said. “He’s on the move. Dansky went out to talk to people and he’s dead. You can now hear the clock ticking on Vladimir. Luther will be the tougher one to get. He’s probably shifted entirely to secondhand communication now. Something sent to a dead drop, a message passed through Vladimir.”

“His wife will break that silence eventually.” It was the one thing Darcy thought would give them the lead they needed for the man they most wanted. “So how do we track Jerry?”

Gabriel smiled and tossed her an apple from the sack on his desk. “Think. That’s why I called you.”

* * *

Darcy stretched out on the couch in her own office, the lumps and taut springs against her back uncomfortable in a familiar way. She’d often slept here. Someone had painted over the smoke-stained tiles on the ceiling. The building had caught on fire a year ago August, and it had taken a long time to catch up with the minor cleanup. Darcy tipped her head to see the direction of the brushstrokes. She missed the gray smoke. It could be cloudy when she needed something else to be cloudy besides her thoughts. Her computer began to play the song “Hound Dog,” and she reluctantly reached back to release the door lock. “Go away.”

“You don’t have to find Jerry in the next hour,” Gabe said.

“Do too. And I’ve got a headache.”

He tugged a lock of her hair. “Sam will call.”

“I hope not in the next hour. I’m in a bad mood and I’ll snarl at him.” She held up a sheet of a paper for Gabriel to read. “The Athens cops think Jerry may have gone toward the ports. A cabbie recognized the photo.”

“We can find out every boat that has left during the twenty-four hours after his arrival at the airport,” Gabriel said.

“Already did. Two passenger cruise liners, sixty-two personal crafts, and eleven cargo ships from the docks. That’s assuming he isn’t sleeping and playing solitaire in the cabin of a boat still moored in the harbor just to make our lives difficult. You know how hard it is to track where boats go?” Darcy asked.

“Let the guys at NSA map it out.”

“They already groaned and asked, ‘How many boats?’ They’ll try but no promises.” It was yet another lead where they were a step behind being able to do anything with it.
Jesus, I’m tired of the missed opportunities. Really tired.

Gabe settled into her desk chair. She thought about ignoring him until he went away, but he had more patience than she did. “You’ve got something else.”

“The package the Brits were sending over arrived earlier than expected.”

She swung her feet to the floor and shoved her hands through her hair. “It’s a day for puzzles. Keep this one simple.”

“They raided a safe house on the coast of Ireland near the town of Bangor. They found the man they expected to find, a retired sniper for the IRA, who unfortunately died during the exchange. They also found a few items that were a surprise to them. He had cash, a lot of it. And this.” Gabriel handed over a folder.

One eyebrow rose as she saw a photo of a piece of paper laid out beside rulers to show its dimensions, the page filled with lines of numbers in neat rows. “What is this? Connect the numbers?”

“It’s got Luther’s prints on it.”

She looked over, startled.

“That was about the Brits’ reaction too. They now think Vladimir had hired the IRA sniper to do some work in London. Luther’s sending encrypted messages now to the men he hires. The Brits couldn’t crack this one.”

“Luther doesn’t have state-level quality code encryption. And the Brits are as good as any at NSA. I can’t believe they couldn’t break it.”

“They concluded it was an open code,” Gabriel replied.

This was the last thing she needed today—another puzzle. Open codes were simple. Two people agreed on how numbers would be turned into letters, and while the two of them could decode the messages easily, it was incredibly difficult for others to do it. Her favorite open code used
New York Times
crossword puzzles. The numbers one and four became the first question, fourth letter. The next numbers in the code, eight and five, became the eighth question, fifth letter. The fact the open key was a public document that changed weekly made it difficult if not impossible to find that key unless one of the two people who used it revealed it. “Was there anything in the house that suggested what they were using as the open key?”

“The Brits spent a week going through the house. They sent over videos of the walk-through they did of the rooms and photos of everything they recovered. They were hoping we’d have better luck spotting it.”

“Are you sure they weren’t just hoping to keep us busy for a while? And what’s Vladimir doing hiring an IRA sniper and then hiring Jerry mere days later?” Darcy asked. “How many hits are they setting up?”

“Luther has a plan and we’re seeing it begin to unfold.”

“We need more guys on this.”

“We’ll get as many as we need,” Gabriel promised.

She closed the folder. “I hate puzzles.”

“You love puzzles, dahlin’.” He struggled to his feet. “You’ve got clearance to take the package of materials home, just lock the stuff in your safe. We need to know what he was hiring this guy to do.”

“And find Jerry.”

“That too. I’ve got a meeting with the Brits this evening to find out what we can about this IRA sniper’s background,” Gabe said.

“Check and see if he ever did any fund-raising in the States, if he had been here before. I’d like to get a sense of where he was being sent—Europe or here.”

“Will do.”

“Who do we have at NSA looking at this puzzle?” Darcy asked.

“There is a team of five on it; the fact the Brits couldn’t crack it has the NSA boys determined to show they can.”

She looked at the numbers. “In this case a little friendly competition is a good thing.” She was tired just looking at the page. She’d prayed for an answer. She had one. She just had no idea how to read it.

All I’ve been doing lately is asking for wisdom and help.
Faith is the evidence of things not seen . . . She’d read that somewhere.
Can You guess what I’m asking for in this prayer, Lord?

MAY 22

Wednesday, 5:38 p.m.

McLean, Virginia

Darcy took the four videotapes and the photos of recovered items home with her. She wished she had stayed on vacation another two days. She needed to be fully rested for this kind of job. She sat at her dining room table and looked at the numbers. It was an aggravating puzzle. She knew the message was staring at her, but she didn’t have any idea how to approach it.

Lord, I don’t want to be doing this, but it’s got to be solved. What is this? And who’s going to be killed if I don’t figure it out?

A note to a sniper in Ireland. Maybe there’s also a note to Jerry in Yemen? What would a guy in Ireland and a guy in Yemen both have easy access to? Darcy turned to a blank page on her notepad. She looked through the photos. Items were displayed on the table: newspapers and what looked like a television guide. She started listing what she saw. They would have to be considered one by one.

The phone rang. She reached around to answer it, even as she tried to make out the name of a newspaper.

“I tried your office, but you had already gone home.”

“Work came home with me,” Darcy said, relieved to hear Sam’s voice. “You got home okay?”

“There’s a party going on to celebrate. I wish you were here, Dar.”

“It would be better than here.” Maybe the key was a book? The numbers could be page references. She tried to figure out if they were a page number only, a page number followed by a line number, or a page number followed by a line and character number.

“Mom asked me to say hi.”

“Tell Hannah thanks.” She chewed on her pen. “Sorry, I’m pretty distracted.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Pray that I get a big dose of wisdom. I’m stumped.” She set down her pen and pushed the work away. “So . . . they’re celebrating your return.”

“You’re always in my prayers, Dar. You’ll figure it out. It feels good to be home. We party tonight, move hay tomorrow.”

“I’m glad for you, sad for me. I wish you were still here,” she admitted.

“Hugs are good from a distance.”

“I’ll take one.”

“You’ve got one.”

She smiled at the noise in the background. “Go cut the cake, Sam. It sounds like a good party.”

“And I really wish you were here with me.”

“Call me tomorrow, okay? It’s nice just to hear your voice.”

“Guaranteed. Don’t work too late.”

She looked at the photos across the table. Late was relative. “I won’t.”

Sixteen

* * *

MAY 24

Friday, 6:30 a.m.

Timber Lake, South Dakota

Sam understood why Darcy had come back to this part of the world when she retired. Open land, wide vistas, a place to breathe. He drank his coffee while watching the sun come up.

His brothers had done an excellent job in preparing for the summer. He felt the soreness of moving hay. It was a good hurt, though, from hard productive work. His brothers planned to have the third barn under construction finished by midmonth to allow this fall’s hay crop to be stored nearer the cattle. The screen door behind him opened, and he turned to glance over his shoulder.

His mom joined him. “Blueberry muffins. They’re hot.”

He set down his coffee and accepted a muffin from the towel-covered basket, tossing it between his hands as it was still steaming. “Thanks.”

The rest of the muffins and coffee carafe she would take to his father down at the barn in a morning ritual that went back to his childhood. The routines of home were comforting, familiar, something he could depend on to be here when he came back from his travels. “Mom, you mind if I borrow your video camera today?”

“Feel free. I think it’s still in the living room.” She looked at him, curious. “Heading somewhere?”

“I was thinking of taking a drive and heading a couple hours north.” Darcy could use a taste of home. She hadn’t had a chance to really relax and breathe in months. He couldn’t change her situation, but he could help her out.

“Going to see Darcy’s home?”

Sam nodded. “Meet her sister if possible. It shouldn’t be that hard to find the local sheriff.”

“That would be a good idea. Darcy makes you smile, Sam. And you’ve been mentioning her in letters for months. I can think of worse distractions for one of my sons to have. I’d love to have a daughter-in-law.”

Sam laughed. “So you’ve been saying for a decade. She’s got more layers than any other lady I’ve ever met.”

“You don’t need someone simple, Sam. You would be bored. Go take your drive and make some tapes for Darcy. She’ll appreciate it.”

Sam hugged his mom. “Okay if I invite her for Thanksgiving this fall?”

“I would love it.”

He didn’t know if Darcy would think a soldier in her life was a good thing, but he was beginning to think a retired spy in his would be.

* * *

There was a lot of time to think on a long solitary drive. This land was home, and while he drove, Sam understood just why Darcy chose this place to live the next season of her life. She would be comfortable here, with her house, her family, a chance to have deep roots again surrounded by people who had known her growing up. For her the struggle over the years had been overseas. It was now centered on the work she did on the East Coast. This was the heartland of America, as far from the touch of terror as she could go.

The idea of coming back here for part of the year was taking hold. He loved the sea and the travel, but a few days at home had reminded him of everything here he had missed. For the first time in years, he was feeling a tug to come back toward his roots and find the permanence that so marked his parents’ lives.

He loved it here, in a land that stretched for miles, home to only a handful of people. He would retire from the SEALs in a few years, for it was a young man’s profession, and he wouldn’t want a desk job when his days in the field ended. He’d spent years exploring the world, and the idea of coming home no longer felt restrictive.

He had a feeling Darcy had gone into her profession because she was just as much an explorer as he was. She sought out knowledge, places, people. In a civilian life he bet with a little prompting that she would make a world-class adventurer.

The sound of a siren interrupted his thoughts. He looked up, surprised to find a police cruiser settling in behind him with lights flashing. A glance at the cruise control showed his speed was steady at the speed limit. He was the only one on the road, and the cruiser was definitely signaling him. He tapped his brakes and, when it was safe to do so, pulled to the shoulder of the road. The police car pulled to a stop behind him.

The one officer inside got out from the squad car.

Sam slid off his sunglasses. It didn’t take much study in the side mirror as she approached to see the similarity to Darcy. He’d been looking forward to meeting Amy, but this wasn’t quite what he had planned. “Is there a problem, Officer?”

“Could I see your driver’s license and registration, please?”

He handed them over, keeping his moves to a minimum. The badge said Bond. He hadn’t known her married name. “I didn’t realize I was speeding.”

“Excuse me.”

She stepped back from the car toward the trunk and lifted her radio, looking at his IDs and then at the car plates. He didn’t like the tension in her voice as she approached again. “Mr. Houston, would you please step out of your car.”