Thin Line (20 page)

Eight or nine silent minutes later, Bear exited Pierre's office. He walked past Laure, stopped in front of me.

"Anything?"

Bear shook his head. "If there's more, he ain't telling me."

I didn't think the Frenchman would. Any other secrets he held would go to the grave with him. Or the review board.

"But," Bear continued, "he has arranged for a car to take us to the airport. And a friendly agent is going to accompany us past security."

"You believe him?"

"I listened in on the call. We're clear to take off." Pierre's door opened. Bear looked back. The Frenchman nodded. "And we called a friend back home. VIP
treatment awaits."

"Last time someone told me that…"

Bear waited a moment for me to continue. "What?"

I shook my head. It didn't matter if we were detained. I had enough favors to call in that we'd be out within twenty-four hours. Of course, that was about
all we had left, due to my deal with the Old Man. So it'd be slightly more than a minor nuisance to deal with.

"We good to go, Jack?"

Were we? I doubted it. Did we have a choice? No.

Bear asked again.

"Yeah," I said. "We're good."

Pierre said something softly across the room. He closed his cell phone, stuffed it in his pocket and walked toward us. "The car will be here in two
minutes." After a pause, he added, "Jack, I just want to -"

"Save it, Pierre. You want to make this up to me, then be ready to do anything I need when I call on you."

He nodded and turned away. "Laure, please see our guests out."

OUR PLANE DEPARTED before midnight. As Pierre had promised, getting through De Gaulle required no effort. An escort led us to our gate and waited with us
until we boarded. He said nothing. Made no eye contact. Sat two rows away from us.

The entire time, I expected a group of heavily armed men to appear and arrest us.

It never happened.

The first hour of the flight required a certain level of intestinal fortitude. The plane dropped forty, fifty feet at a time as we hit air pockets. The
pilots did their best. Didn't matter to Bear as he nearly ripped the armrest out from between us. Nothing was going to calm him. At least, not until the
plane settled.

And it did.

I slept the rest of the flight. Bear might have, too.

Eight hours after departing, we landed at Dulles. It was dark out, and would be for another three hours. Bear's contact met us at the gate and provided an
escort through the empty airport. Customs agents backed down upon viewing the man's credentials. I didn't recognize the man. Bear wouldn't reveal the guy's
identity. Loyal to a fault.

After his contact left us, Bear took off to rent a car. Not knowing who else might be aware of our arrival, we figured that was the best option.

Twenty minutes later we were on the Beltway. The most dangerous time to drive. Double- and triple-shifter workers were on their way home, as were the
partiers. Both groups straddled the interstate's dashed lines in hopes of arriving home alive. Early risers, meanwhile, were kicking off their day with
yoga, a jog, oatmeal, whatever kept them fueled. Two people from different groups could live next door to each and never know the other.

"Know where you're going?" Bear asked.

I nodded, said nothing.

"Been there before?"

"Twice."

"When was the last time?"

"Summer before I left SIS. Frank held a barbecue for the team to celebrate his latest promotion. He'd become my boss, but we still worked as partners.
After I left, he never partnered up again. Focused on running the show."

"So you're sure he still lives there?"

"Can't be sure of anything, Bear. If it's not him, we'll exit quietly into the dark night."

"Poetic."

"Close."

A red sports car with blacked out taillights drove past us doing at least 120. The sound was similar to a fighter jet passing overhead at low altitude,
minus the intensity, of course.

"Wonder what his hurry is?" Bear rolled down his window for a moment. Air rushed in and undid the effects of the heater. A white Lamborghini flew by,
faster than the previous car. He cut into our lane. The next two minutes were spent riding in exhaust that smelled like rotten eggs.

Five miles later, I exited the interstate and made the series of right and left turns that led to Frank's neighborhood. The area consisted of several
three-thousand-square-foot homes on small lots, with maybe ten feet between each house. The front lawns were minimal. Backyards non-existent. Frank had
purchased before prices spiraled out of control. He'd also been married with two kids at the time. Now it was just him inside that large house. Despite the
equity, he refused to sell, thinking only of the investment he was making with his mortgage payments.

"That's it on the right." I continued past the brick-and-siding colonial, made a right, and parked after driving another hundred feet. There were no houses
facing the side street. No one to look out their window and wonder who the two goons getting out of a rented sedan were.

I opened my door, stuck one foot out. Bear hadn't moved. "Ready?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "Don't get a good feeling about this."

"Why?"

"For starters, we're both unarmed."

I hiked my shoulders an inch. "He's not a good enough shot to hit both of us."

Bear didn't smile. "My place isn't twenty minutes from here. I got an armory there."

"And it's probably under surveillance."

"Maybe not."

"You want to hinge our futures on maybe?"

"I dunno, Jack. You willing to do so on probably?"

I pulled my leg into the vehicle and shut the door. "Frank's kids were born on April 4th and May 5th."

"So?"

"Four-four-five-five. That's his pin for everything."

"How do you know?"

"Just trust me." Frank had given me access at one time or another to his ATM pin, password for his computer, and the gun safe he kept under his desk at SIS
headquarters. "He's got some new lock for his back door. It's electronic. Guess he was testing it. Anyway, I bet my half of our bounty for this job that
will be the code."

"And if it's not?"

"Then we risk our necks going to your place for a couple pistols."

"Fair enough."

The big man opened his door and got out. We headed down the alley that ran behind the two rows of homes, which was wide enough for the garbage trucks to
fit through. A dog barked as we passed the second set of homes. By the time we reached the fourth, the canine had quieted.

We stopped behind Frank's house and lay low for a couple minutes. The alley remained still. No doors opened. No windows slid up. Bear peered over the
privacy fence. He confirmed that there were no lights on inside Frank's house. There hadn't been in front when we drove past a few minutes prior. The gate
was unlocked. I entered first. The yard was barren except for a shed in the rear left corner. The grass was dead and crunched underfoot. Might as well have
been setting off fireworks in the dead of the night.

The moon provided enough light to see the keypad when we reached the backdoor.

"Fancy," Bear said. "Mind if I give it a try?"

"Have at it."

He reached for the door handle. After pressing the first number, the pad lit up bluish-white. He punched in the rest of the code. A click indicated my
guess had been correct. Bear opened the door and waited. The only sounds we heard were the ticking of a grandfather clock and water dripping from a faucet,
presumably from the kitchen to the left of the door. Other than that, nothing. No sirens. No dogs.

No Frank.

I entered the blackness of the house first. Bear came in a moment later and quietly shut the door. My eyes started to adjust, and I forced my memory to
reveal every square inch of the place. I didn't get far.

It sounded like a foot scraping across concrete. A burst of flame appeared above the kitchen table and settled into a spiraling tendril, illuminating
Frank's face as he inhaled the fire through a cigarette.

"I was wondering if I'd see you two tonight," he said, rising and flicking the light switch on. Positioned next to an ashtray on the table was his pistol.
He picked it up, pointed it in our direction. "Set your weapons on the floor."

"We're unarmed."

Frank forced a laugh. "Don't screw with me, Jack."

I pulled my shirt up and turned in a circle. "Like I said, we're unarmed."

"What the hell kind of thinking is that? You break into a house-"

"Didn't break in," I said. "Code worked just fine."

Frank set his pistol on the table. He regarded us for a few minutes while drumming his fingers on the wood top. Then he rose, grabbed his pistol, and
tucked it behind his back into a holster in the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Go ahead and have a seat." Frank walked to the counter and turned his back on us. "I'll start some coffee."

The brewer bubbled in the background. The aroma of fresh grounds thankfully overtook the smell of three men sitting around a kitchen table at four in the
morning.

"What were you doing up?" I asked.

"Got a call, not too long ago. A name we'd flagged a year back popped up on the radar. A little digging revealed an escort had led the man through the
airport. When you didn't call first, and when I realized you were traveling back under a different name, I figured you knew."

"Knew what, Frank?"

He averted his eyes to the coffee maker, took a drag off his cigarette, then rose. "Looks like there's enough for a cup."

I stood and blocked his path. "Don't avoid the question. What do we know?"

He placed his hands on the table and lowered back into the seat. "You have to know that I would have never sent you in there had I been aware. It's
just…" His voice trailed off and he looked down at the table.

"Frank," I said.

Bear shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Jack, Riley, trust me, if I'd known that McLellan had been issued a kill order, I never would have sent you in."

COFFEE DRIPPED INTO the pot at irregular intervals. The final drops. Weakest of the bunch. It smelled good anyway. My mouth watered at the prospects of
having a cup. I stared into the bloodshot eyes of the man across from me. His breathing, like the dripping coffee, had become sporadic at best. Restrained
panic. Years of training had made it second nature to beat back the symptoms of anything that could interfere with the operation and situational awareness.

"So, there weren't two groups out after Taylor?" I said. "Someone wanted us, so the other guy was there to do us after we did our target?"

"That's one possibility," Frank said. "The other is more likely: that you two mean nothing in the grand scheme of things. And if someone was to get busted
on the initial hit, better it be you guys than their guy. Only problem is, he got there first and was under-prepared for what he faced."

"We know he didn't walk in after Taylor arrived," Bear said. "I was following Taylor, and Jack had his eyes on the building for hours prior."

Frank shrugged. "We can't say anything with certainty. You didn't see Taylor leave, either. Maybe there's another way in and out. Hell, we can assume as
fact that there is. Maybe McLellan was there already. Christ, he could have been dead when Taylor arrived, prompting him to skate. Have you heard from
Agent Dunne lately? Maybe he's got something."

"He called me, but didn't have any information I didn't already know." I paused, then said, "Let's move forward a bit. Taylor was never involved with the
terrorists. Pierre admitted that to me. Where'd this intelligence come from?"

"You know how things are," Frank said, shaking his head. "There are some things I can't reveal."

"Was it the same source that arranged the hit?"

Frank leaned back and said nothing. That was indictment enough.

"We could have died."

"I'm sure the French would have been grateful for your sacrifice."

"Screw you, Frank."

"What do you want me to say?" He crossed his arms over his chest, glanced between Bear and me. "You idiots didn't have to go charging into a house that may
or may not have been occupied by terrorists."

"I'd say by the big-ass charred hole in the ground," Bear said, "there were most definitely terrorists there."

Frank looked away, shrugged. "Does it really matter now?"

I said, "It matters insomuch as I want to know what the hell Taylor's crime was to warrant sending us in."

"Some French operator tells you Taylor had nothing to do with those terrorists, and all of a sudden I'm a liar?"

"So help me, Frank. If I find out you used us on this one-"

"What, Jack? What are you gonna do? Tell on me? Call up your local senator and complain? Give me a break, man. For every one thing you got on me, I got
three on you. If I go down in flames, you'll be the pile of ash they burn me on top of. Besides, you wanted to do it for the chance to nab al-Sharaa once
and for all."

"I'll destroy everything that ever meant anything to you."

Frank rose quickly, knocking his chair back and the table a half foot forward and into my gut. It ground against the floor, emitting a high-pitched
scratching sound. He reached around his back, presumably for his pistol, but left his hand out of sight.

"Are you threatening my kids, Jack?"

"I said anything that meant something to you. We all know your wife and kid never meant anything to you."

Frank brought his hand around. It was empty. He aimed a finger at me. "Get the hell out of my house. Go, before I do something stupid. If I hear anything
new, I'll contact you." He walked across the kitchen and opened the back door. "And don't think about coming back here. Next time I'll shoot on sight, and
I'll aim to kill."

Bear got up and placed himself midway between me and Frank. "Jack, let's just go. We'll follow up later when heads have had a chance to cool off."