Dark Cover (The DARK Files #2) (26 page)

For the first time in weeks, she carried a weapon, the S&W 640 in the inside-the-waistband holster concealed by a jacket. Practical brogans, not sexy slingbacks, were on her feet. Her hair hid the tiny mic in her ear, and she had a phone for emergencies. She felt herself. Less vulnerable.

Except to one man.

As they entered the garage, Nick looked up from the newspaper he was holding.

She adjusted her jacket. On the surface, he looked better than she must. Handsome and potently male in his charcoal-colored wool suit and white turtleneck. Harder and more unreachable than she’d seen him, with an edge of pain that scraped her heart. Determination defined eyes as black and deep as the inside of a cave. His jaw could cut glass.

“I’m gonna miss driving this car today.” A white grin flashed in McNair’s dark face. He stashed his burden in the trunk. The case as well as the car were fitted with tracking bugs. “You up on the drill?”

Gaze skipping over her, Nick skewered the officer with a hard stare. “DARK cars stationed along the route to make sure we’re not ambushed. Arrive at the cemetery ten minutes ahead of the meet. Leave the car in visitor parking and take Roosevelt Drive directly to the Tomb of the Unknowns and wait to be contacted. As soon as I’m approached, your people will move in.” There was a pregnant pause. “Satisfied?”

“You wearing a wire? Mic work okay?”

“Affirmative. Checked everything out earlier. Let’s go.” Nick sauntered around to the driver’s side as if going to a picnic.

She slid into the passenger seat and buckled up. If for no other reason, she needed clamping down to keep her somersaulting nerves in check.

Their erstwhile driver spoke into the headset he wore. “Fiancés headed out.” The code name made Vanessa wince.

McNair bent to speak to her. “I’ll be here at the command post. Byrne’s already in place at Arlington. Harris heads your escort, in one of the cars en route.”

“Got it.” She pressed the button to roll up the window.

In silence they drove into D.C. on Connecticut Avenue. He followed the car’s GPS directions along the planned route and took no apparent notice of her presence. Tension rode between them, a thick wall more impenetrable than the stones Ray would slather with mortar on Monday.

As they proceeded around Tenley Circle to continue on Wisconsin Avenue, the DARK vehicles were stationed at intervals, but she didn’t acknowledge them. The sunny Sunday offered barely any traffic to impede their progress. They left their escort behind as they crossed into Virginia and onto the George Washington Parkway. To her, the short drive lasted eons, but twenty minutes put them ahead of schedule.

“I know you’re angry with me, but we have to talk to each other for this op to work.” Heart racing, she clenched her hands in her lap. They were icy beneath a film of sweat.

His jaw tightened. He expelled a breath as though from a burst balloon. He jerked a nod at the dashboard clock. “We’re early. What do you suggest?”

The tension wall seemed to thin and waver. She allowed herself to relax a millimeter. “Pull up ahead. We can wait awhile.”

The Mercedes rolled to a stop in the small rest stop she indicated. No one occupied the five parking places or the lone picnic table.

“You’re right.” He gripped the wheel as if it might fly away, “We have to set aside our differences. That’s only part of what’s tying me in knots.”

“If you still think something smells of trap in this arrangement, why go through with it?”

“Not trap. Al-Din wants that money, and there’s no reason to harm either of us if he thinks he has it.”

“Then what?”

“They chose the day and time for more reason than dusk. Byrne has found nothing to suggest that, but my gut warns otherwise. I’d like to be wrong. That’s another reason to go ahead.” He reached for the
Washington Post
in the back seat. Multiple sections made the Sunday edition thicker than a New York deli sandwich. “I was looking in here for what else might be scheduled for today.” He leafed through a section, skimming headlines.

She trusted his instincts, even if he didn’t. Working together felt wonderful. Temporary, she reminded herself. “Give me a couple of sections. I can search too.”

Nick watched her over his pages as she scanned the features. Last night had exacted a heavy toll on her. She must not have slept any more than he did. He tried to ignore the effect of his fury, but the image of her, pale and shaking, haunted the rest of his night.

Her skin held a pallor as white as the newsprint she held, and exhaustion smudged violet beneath her eyes. The sight of her, brittle and hurt but undaunted, speared him with remorse.
But they had to get through this damn meet first before he could fix the damage. He had to put himself in the zone and stay focused until the danger passed.

As he turned a page in the Capitol news section, the photo of a familiar building caught his attention. He read the caption and the accompanying story with mounting agitation. “I found it.”

“What? We don’t have much time.”

The dashboard clock read four-thirty.

He shoved the paper between them so she could read it. “Remember at the Hirshhorn, the Yamari sculpture?”

She nodded, peering at the page. “The pedestal was covered with a tarp when we were there.” Her eyes widened, and she gripped the paper’s edge as what she read sank in. “The dedication ceremony’s today. At exactly five!”

“The Yamari president will take part — is probably already there — along with the ambassador and several U.S. diplomats including the U.S. Secretary of State.”

She looked up from the story. He could see the implications clicking in her intuitive mind. “Our money exchange is a decoy to distract DARK. New Dawn must be on to us. Their real objective is that gathering.”

“The money meet may be legit. Or they sent an expendable agent for DARK to grab.” He tapped the photo of the draped sculpture with the Hirshhorn Museum in the background for emphasis. “I’m betting the new Yamari democracy is their real target. Not the U.S. president on Veterans Day, but the new Yamari president today.”

“Two days before Veterans Day. The ceremony will have only the normal Diplomatic Security detail.” The State Department provided security for foreign diplomats.

The knots in his shoulders eased at her acceptance. “So you buy my logic?”

“Your logic is flawless given the timing of both events. No way it’s coincidence.” She dug her phone from her jacket pocket. “If they kill Ambassador Khalil as well, Husam Al-Din and New Dawn could carry out a coup with little opposition.”

NICK WAITED AS she hit speed dial. She reached the command post in seconds and explained their discovery. Moments later, she disconnected.

“What?”

Vanessa bit her lip. “McNair alerted Byrne and Harris. In case we’re wrong, Byrne will continue to stake out the cemetery. Harris and the escort are on the way to the Mall. Capitol Police and Diplomatic Security will evacuate the Hirshhorn ceremony site.”

Nick turned the key, and the engine purred to life. “What about us?”

Her pulse jumped, then hiccupped. He didn’t mean
us
in that way. “We’re to drive around for a while, shake any tails, then return to Chevy Chase. Byrne doesn’t like the feel of Arlington, no matter what else happens.”

From the furrows on her brow, she didn’t like her orders any more than he did. Had his suspicions screwed up any chance they had of snaring Al-Din and stopping New Dawn? Or did his hunch hit a bull’s-eye? He had to know.

“How far are we from the Hirshhorn?” He pressed the accelerator and rolled to the Parkway entrance.

He waited as she studied his face. Then her shoulders slumped. “We can’t. Our New Dawn tail would know DARK was on to their plot.”

He slapped the steering wheel in frustration. “I hate to admit it, but you’re right. Dammit, I need to know.”

Her approving smile ratcheted up his confidence. “Your hunch has to be right. There are no coincidences. Simon or Gabe Harris will let us know.”

“Okay. Our not going to Arlington might abort the money meet, but that can’t be helped.” The car’s quick response soothed his nerves as he pulled into Parkway traffic. Too long since he’d driven his own car.
He drove along the winding road as she used the map to guide him in taking exits and reversing direction. They had just detoured for the third time when her cell phone signaled.

From her side of the conversation, Nick could tell it was Simon Byrne. She listened intently to his sit rep.
When she disconnected, she said, “He’s on his way to the Mall. Something’s going down at the Hirshhorn. They evacuated the diplomats already. He wouldn’t say anything more.”

Nick rolled his shoulders, tension drawing his muscles taut. “Did anyone show up at Arlington?”

“Just as you figured, Al-Din sent an agent. DARK has him at HQ now. The general himself is grilling him.”

“Not Husam Al-Din after all. No surprise. The terrorist leader’s no fool. Who is he? Does Byrne know his name?”

“And his voice. So do you. Abdul Rashid was your phone buddy. Emil Alfieris identified him as his contact.”

“What else?” Nick said, hearing something in her tone.

“Rashid works for the Yamari prince as his secretary. Officers are on their way to talk to Prince Amir.”

The possibility of Prince Smarmy’s complicity in this affair should please Nick, but he felt no satisfaction. Only a tight knot in his belly about what was going down at the Mall. Had anything happened? Was this all a monumental waste of time? His heartbeat clattered. But all he could do was drive. And wait.

She said, “I still see familiar headlights behind us. Take this turn. We’ll shake him before we head home.”

“Husam Al-Din might call since he didn’t get his money.”

Now that darkness camouflaged them, he took the Chain Bridge exit across the Potomac and back into D.C. Somewhere after Chain Bridge, as they zigzagged through a maze of streets, they lost whoever was following them.

She used her phone GPS to direct him to Massachusetts Avenue. Tense silence reigned as the Mercedes wound north to Chevy Chase.
When they reached the house, he intended to remedy last night’s mistakes. He glanced sideways from time to time at her. In the gathering darkness of twilight, he couldn’t see her clearly, only the halo of her bright hair. Wisps freed from her braid floated out like sunbeams.

Her gaze focused ahead. The occasional thinning of her mouth said her professional bearing was wavering. No wonder. Her case of nerves must match his Capitol-dome-size one.

As the car neared the D.C. line, she said, “You need to know what I’ve found about your mission in Somalia. I uncovered the last piece of the puzzle only this morning.”

He waited for the old pain to surface from its dark burrow, but guilt gave his heart only a minor pinch. “I told you before it won’t make a difference.”

“The officers I tracked down were less than forthcoming, as you predicted. Then I accessed your original report, buried in army archives. And I talked to the other man who survived.”

“Cruiser?” Guilt had kept Nick from keeping in touch. After all these years maybe he would contact the man.

Smiling, she tsked at him. “Among other things, he told me your nickname, but I could’ve guessed. ‘The Greek.’ ”

He steered around the circle and into the tree-lined streets of the wealthy suburb. “Turns out you didn’t have all the facts prior to the mission. The brass orchestrated the cover-up to protect a general’s son.”

“Smitty?” The news threw him for a loop. He knew the team’s exec was an officer’s brat and his old man had pulled strings to get him promoted. But the guy had appeared to do his job. “How?”

She shifted in her seat to face him. “Smitty was responsible for obtaining the surveillance photos. Seems he fell into a stupor of hashish and other drugs, cheap in the village markets. He spent a lot of time out of it. He never sent out helicopters. He passed old footage to you. The old tape didn’t show the warlord’s troop buildup. He also faked other reports to keep superiors off his back.

“Nick, you can hang on to your guilt if you want, but the burden should fall on lots of others instead. Smith paid the price. He died of a drug overdose five years ago.”

“Thank you for digging that out. You didn’t have to do it. Plenty of mistakes and blame to go around, not all on these shoulders. The truth eases my mind, but I’ll always see the faces of those men.”

She smiled. “You said you and Cruiser escaped, but not how you took care of the warlord.”

He knew what was coming. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, but it does. You patched up your comrade and then single-handedly eliminated the bad guy and his men. You’re the hero, not the goat.”

“I did what was necessary. But thanks.” Even without that weight lifted, one of the day’s other events helped. His hunch had panned out. The captured man might lead them to the New Dawn leader.

“We still know nothing about New Dawn’s plot on the Yamari leadership. If there is one. Nailing my brother’s murderer would sure feel good. It would redeem the rest of my honor and that of my family.” And maybe give him back his life and a chance at a future.

She started to reach out to him, but pulled it back. “Simon should’ve scoped out the situation by now. Once we get in the house, I’ll call him. Okay?”

“Thanks.” He turned into the driveway and saw the spotlights in the front of the house. He pulled into the lighted garage and lowered the door behind them.

Vanessa started to open the passenger door, but he stopped her. “Wait. The security panel. No light.”

“Power’s not out. Something’s very wrong.”

Ice skittered down his spine. “What the hell are the surveillance people doing?”

“I think there’s only a skeleton crew next door. Mostly techs. McNair’s downtown with the rest of the team. They must’ve alerted HQ.” When she opened the door, she had her S&W in her hand. “I’ll go inside to check it out.”

“Somebody could be in the house. Husam Al-Din’s agent. Or the man himself. They must’ve heard us enter the garage.” Skilled and tough as she was, he wouldn’t allow her to face this danger alone. “Vanessa, don’t be a hero.”