The Rescue(56)
“What about DOJ records?” said Harlow. “Any way to see what kind of arrangement he had with the feds?”
“BOP information security was more or less a joke,” said Joshua. “I can’t say the same for the DOJ. Hacking into their system carries some risk.”
“We’re already pretty exposed on this one,” said Harlow, turning to Sophie. “I don’t think it’s necessary. Just knowing that something is wrong with Pierce’s story is enough for now. I’ll pass this along to Decker and see what he thinks. Any chance of finding Pierce?”
“We can try,” said Joshua. “But my guess is we’ll come up with goose eggs.”
“You’d think the feds would be interested in keeping track of Pierce,” said Sophie. “He was probably just as important as Decker to the Bratva case.”
“That’s why I don’t think we’ll find him,” said Joshua. “Reading between the lines here, my guess is that Pierce gave everyone the slip after he cut a deal with the US attorney. He obviously gave them something, though, or they wouldn’t have cut him loose for any period of time. They had to know he had the skills to disappear and cover his tracks.”
“No other anomalies in the group?” said Harlow.
“None. I have certified death certificates for everyone else,” he said. “The Russians really did a number on these people. It’s too bad the case against them got torpedoed. At least someone finally punched Penkin’s ticket.”
“They haven’t found him yet,” said Harlow, avoiding Sophie’s eyes.
“Based on the mess left at that club, I think it’s fair to assume one of his rivals within the Bratva decided he was finished running the show—and breathing.”
“Say hello to the new boss,” said Sophie, looking at her. “Same as the old boss.”
Not this time. Not if they could link Aegis to Meghan Steele and start a war between the US government and the traffickers.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Gunther Ross opened the passenger door and stepped into the hot morning sun. Barely eight in the morning and he could already tell the day would be a scorcher. He made his way across the parking lot to the small stand-alone warehouse that served as his area headquarters. Located in Glendale, the warehouse gave his direct-action teams quick access to San Fernando Valley or the Los Angeles Basin, wherever they were needed.
Disappointingly, these teams had spent much of the past twenty-four hours sitting on their collective asses, waiting for Decker and his very recently identified accomplice, Harlow Mackenzie, to resurface. Both of them, along with Mackenzie’s entire investigative firm, had essentially disappeared after the close encounter with Decker at Ares Aviation. Surveillance teams watching the dozen or so properties owned by Mackenzie and members of her firm had reported zero activity at all locations.
He entered a six-digit code into the keypad next to the door and glanced upward at the closed-circuit camera pointed at his face. The door clicked a few moments later. He stepped into the air-conditioned, two-story space, closing the door behind him. By the time he’d turned around, a fit-looking, impeccably dressed man was headed in his direction. He recognized the guy from the file forwarded by Harcourt. Derek Green. His new assistant.
“Derek,” he said, offering a handshake. “You come highly recommended.”
“Mr. Ross. It’s an honor to join your team.”
Harcourt had taken Green off a domestic surveillance job in Tampa, where he’d been tracking a human-trafficking network that had recently decided to expand into arms dealing.
“Did you familiarize yourself with the overall operation?” said Gunther.
“I did. Find and neutralize Ryan Decker. Assess level of liability and exposure associated with Harlow Mackenzie and act to contain if necessary. Pretty straightforward job—if we could just find them. They’re slippery as hell.”
Gunther liked what he’d just heard. Green understood exactly what needed to be done and, from what Harcourt had indicated over the phone, wasn’t the least bit squeamish about making it happen. That was the mistake he’d made with the last guy. Gunther had chosen a rising star with a flawless record from the field leadership pool for what he’d thought would be a straightforward mission. A few hours of fieldwork, culminating with the assassination of a “national security threat.” Easy work. Easily justified with a healthy, tax-free mission bonus. Not a lot of time or room for moral compasses to start pointing in the wrong direction—or right direction, depending on your point of view. Of course, how could he have guessed that the operation would implode—to the point where his orders and judgment would be questioned by a subordinate? He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
“Very slippery,” said Gunther. “And a few steps ahead of us at all times.”
“According to the latest round of law enforcement reports, they’ve given everyone the slip. The FBI lost all contact with Decker and Mackenzie’s group last night. Everyone vanished within the span of an hour.”
“They managed to find Decker yesterday?” said Gunther, walking toward the array of flat-screen monitors ahead of him.
“Not for very long,” said Green, following him. “They tracked a vehicle supposedly carrying Decker and Mackenzie from an undisclosed location to LAX, somehow losing Decker on the way. When they got to the airport, Mackenzie pulled a Houdini while her passenger created a diversion.”