Extraordinary Rendition Page 7

  Then, abruptly, Kane stopped, extricating himself from the embrace as he stood and faced Morrison, not bothering to wipe the tears from his face. “Request permission to take some vacation time, sir.”

  Morrison regarded him. “Granted. But I want you to stay in country.”

  Kane stared at him, saying nothing.

  “I mean it, Dylan. Let us work the problem. When I have a target for you, I’ll call you.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  Morrison extended his hand and leaned in, lowering his voice and he clasped Kane’s hand. “You have my word, that the people responsible for what happened today will be found, and eliminated by your hand.”

  38 |

  Operations Center 2, CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia Two weeks later

  Tong sat at her customary station, having successfully avoided Leroux’s these past two weeks, despite the fact she was temporarily the team’s lead. They had been assigned the task of tracking down all involved in Fang’s death and Sherrie’s beating, Morrison demanding proof of everything before action could be taken.

  And she understood his concern.

  This was China they were dealing with, not North Korea or Iran, or some other despotic regime. There were only two countries in the world that concerned her from a military standpoint—Russia and China. Neither could be challenged without risking an all-out conflict that could inflict serious damage on the United States, even if Uncle Sam might ultimately win.

  At what price?

  She wasn’t certain what the game plan was after they handed over their intel. Leroux was at Sherrie’s side in the hospital on a near-constant vigil these past two weeks, Kane hadn’t been heard from but was assumed to be at his apartment, and each new piece of intel simply confirmed what they already knew beyond any doubt.

  China was behind this.

  The private jet they had forced down had been combed from cockpit to tail, and nothing had been found. Physically. Computer forensics had confirmed that someone had hacked the system through a backdoor built into the hardware.

  The Chinese hardware.

  They had used the backdoor to disable the comms and the transponder, disguising the fact from the pilots who were left blissfully unaware anything was wrong until two F-16s buzzed them to get their attention.

  The same was true at Dulles.

  Chinese hardware, with a backdoor that had allowed them to disable cameras as needed, delete footage where necessary, access personnel files, disrupt external communications thus delaying their investigation, and delay flights so the aircraft they had chosen as the decoy took off at the last possible moment, allowing it to be the sole focus of everyone involved.

  While they killed Fang, then escaped the country.

  The operation was planned perfectly. Vehicle exchange points were all in camera dead zones or where the equipment allowed them to override the devices, the vehicles were all rentals, stolen off the lots the night before with fake plates printed that matched the vehicle types. That meant they had access to the DMV, a hack just confirmed yesterday.

  Everything screamed professional. Government. Chinese.

  As far as anyone could tell, the only thing that had gone wrong was Sherrie. They hadn’t known about her, and hadn’t known she was supposed to have lunch with Fang. Three of their people were dead because of the resistance the two women had raised. But resistance had been planned for, hence the cleaning crew. They had restored the apartment to near-perfect order, though had no ability to fix the bullet holes in the couch. If it weren’t for that, only a trained agent like Kane would have spotted the slight imperfections.

  And then there was the lone drop of blood found under the couch.

  It had been discovered by the forensics team that swept the apartment later that tragic day. It had been genetically typed and shown to be Chinese, but beyond that, it was of little use. All they had were the photos of the men involved. All caught on camera in the lobby and elevator of the apartment building. The lone cameras involved that weren’t accessible externally. She believed, and the others investigating this heinous crime agreed, that the Chinese had planned to come back and erase the footage, or do so on the way out, but Sherrie’s interference, then Kane’s return to the apartment shortly after the abduction, had prevented that.

  It was the lone screw up in an otherwise perfect plan.

  That, and Sherrie.

  It was assumed they must have figured out who she was, either through interrogation or her equipment and tactics, and decided against killing her. Terminating an operative on domestic soil was how international incidents were created. Killing an exiled former special operator was not.

  Not if it were done cleanly.

  And if Fang hadn’t been so intimately tied to CIA personnel, and Sherrie hadn’t been physically assaulted to the point of near-death, the matter likely would be swept under the rug. The authorities knew the faces, they would be flagged, and if the Chinese were ever stupid enough to have their assassins set foot back in the United States, they’d be arrested and charged.

  But that wouldn’t be the case.

  She had no doubt both Leroux and Kane wanted revenge, and for that, Morrison needed his answers. Answers she and the team were having trouble finding. They had names for all the faces now, all having registered at various foreign posts over the years, all for short stints, all now linked to disappearances over the years. Nobody had put it together until now. These were specialists in extraordinary rendition—specifically the return to China of those living in exile.

  And that was one piece of the puzzle that still had her troubled. Why kill Fang and burn her body in the warehouse? These men specialized in extraordinary rendition, not assassination. Why would they kill her? And if that was the intent from the beginning, why not simply kill her in the apartment and leave? Why not make it look like a robbery gone bad, and be done with it?

  The only theory she had at the moment was that the Sherrie element had ruined their carefully laid plans, and orders were given to eliminate Fang rather than bring her home. It made sense. Cut your losses and get out of Dodge.

  “I think I’ve got something.”

  She turned to Child. “What?”

  “One of our guys just showed up in Malaysia.”

  Her eyes widened at what might be their first break. “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve been tapping as many customs feeds as I can, and he arrived with three others in Kuala Lumpur two hours ago.”

  “I take it the other three aren’t on our list?”

  “No.”

  “Run them. See if we have anything on them. And check out who’s in Kuala Lumpur that the Chinese might be interested in.”

  “I’m on it.”

  She headed for the door. “I’ll let the Chief know we’ve finally got something actionable.”

  39 |

  Inova Fairfax Hospital Falls Church, Virginia

  Leroux sat beside Sherrie’s hospital bed, his head resting on the narrow mattress as he drifted in and out of sleep. He rarely left her side unless it was absolutely necessary, his phone was dead, he was starving, thirsty, and a mess. Outside of visiting hours, he sometimes slept in his car, other times managed to make it home, though often not for days.

  He was lost.

  The surgery to relieve the pressure on Sherrie’s brain had been a success, and the doctors were convinced it was only a matter of time before she woke, though he could tell from the staff dealing with her, they were concerned. The efforts to convince him to talk to her grew with each day, and it was clear they weren’t sure what to do anymore. He had asked if there was something they could do to speed up the process, some drug, some injection, but they said it was best if she came out of it naturally.

  But what if she doesn’t?

  A knock at the door had him lifting his head. His eyes widened at the sight of his concerned parents in the doorway. His mother burst into tears at the sight of Sherrie, the evidence of her beating still
obvious though nothing compared to what it was two weeks ago.

  “Oh my God, Chris, what happened? Why didn’t you tell us?”

  Leroux rose and hugs were exchanged as tears rolled down his cheeks as the only other people in his life that might help him were finally there. “How did you find out?”

  His father put some bags down in the corner. “I had to call your office.”

  Leroux frowned. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “We hadn’t heard from you in two weeks, and you weren’t returning our calls.”

  His mother gave him a gentle slap on the cheek. “If we had known, we would have come right away to help.”

  He stared at Sherrie. “There’s nothing you can do.”

  His mother shook her head. “Not for her, but for you there is.” She stared up at him, concern on her face. “You look near death yourself. When was the last time you ate?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, we’re here now. We’re going to take care of you. Let’s get you home and cleaned up.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t leave her. If—when she wakes up, I don’t want her to be alone.”

  His father dropped into a chair in the corner. “I’ll stay. You go with your mother and get cleaned up, because frankly, son, you stink. Have a shower, eat something, and get some rest in a proper bed. Come back here in the morning. Your mother and I will take shifts to make sure a familiar face is here when she wakes up.”

  Leroux sighed, his shoulders slumping in relieved defeat. “You’re right.” He gave Sherrie a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll be back soon.” He turned to his father. “What are you going to do?”

  His father waved his eReader. “I’ve got a thousand good books to entertain me.”

  Leroux smiled. “And just think, when I got you that for Christmas, you thought it was a horrible idea.”

  His father shrugged. “I can admit it when I’m wrong.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Now go, your stench is probably hindering her recovery.”

  Leroux took one last glance at Sherrie before saying a silent prayer, the pressure of the past two weeks lifting slightly with the arrival of his parents. “Thank God you guys are here.”

  40 |

  Director Morrison’s Office, CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia

  “What should we do?”

  Morrison’s reply shocked Tong. “Nothing.”

  Her eyes bulged. “What?”

  “Nothing. The White House doesn’t want us to pursue it.”

  Tong was flabbergasted, her mind searching for the words she hadn’t been prepared to find. “Why not?” she finally managed.

  “Fang isn’t an American citizen, and Sherrie is alive. As far as they’re concerned, they don’t want to risk an international incident over this. They’re going to keep it in their back pocket in case one day we do something similar and get caught. We can haul this card out and play it if necessary.”

  “What about Chris? He’s going to be devastated.”

  “He’ll understand.” Morrison frowned. “But he’s not the one I’m worried about.”

  “You mean Dylan. Are you going to tell him?”

  Morrison shook his head. “No. He’ll create that international incident, even if I order him not to.”

  41 |

  Kane/Lee Residence, Fairfax Towers Falls Church, Virginia

  Kane sat on the bullet-riddled couch, staring at the television, the screen as black as his soul. A bottle of Glen Breton Ice sat perched on one knee, no glass in sight as he took another swig straight from the bottle. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten, nor could he remember the last time he had been hungry.

  He couldn’t remember much of anything.

  Which was exactly the way he wanted it.

  He wanted to forget. He wanted to forget what had happened, forget the pain, forget the anguish.

  To forget Fang.

  To forget life.

  He had spoken to no one in two weeks, hadn’t checked his messages, his emails, nothing. He hadn’t contacted his best friend to see how Sherrie was doing, had ignored Leroux’s knocks on the door in the early days, his friend thankfully giving up on him, just as Kane had given up on the world. There had been no word from work on any progress in the investigation, and his experience told him what that meant.

  It meant they weren’t going to do anything about it.

  There was no way Langley hadn’t figured out exactly who was behind this. They had their photos, and people had to travel. They knew who they were, yet were doing nothing about it.

  Morrison had broken his promise.

  He picked up his phone, flipping through old photos of him and Fang, the tears flowing anew, when it vibrated in his hand, the message preview appearing at the top of the screen. He was about to dismiss it when he paused, wiping away the tears.

  We found one of them.

  He tapped on the message and found an attachment. He put the bottle down on the table and sat up, reading the anonymous message about the man that had just arrived in Kuala Lumpur, a man he recognized from the footage he had pulled with Titanic.

  One of the original six men.

  One of the assassins.

  His phone vibrated with another message.

  Don’t go doing anything stupid now.

  Kane stood and headed for the bathroom.

  What’s stupid about going to a foreign country and torturing a man for information before killing him slowly?

  42 |

  Leroux/White Residence, Fairfax Towers Falls Church, Virginia

  Leroux woke to a gentle knock on his bedroom door. He rolled over in the incredibly comfortable bed, groaning at the interruption. “Yeah?”

  “Dylan is here, dear.”

  His eyes widened at the announcement. He hadn’t seen him since the revelation that Fang had died, and calls, texts, and knocks on the door had gone unanswered. Perhaps his friend was ready to face the world once again, which was good.

  He wasn’t so sure if he was ready himself, however.

  “Give me a sec.” He rose and threw on some clothes before checking himself in the mirror. He had cleaned himself up before hitting the sheets, but the black circles under his eyes betrayed the exhaustion he still felt despite sleeping for almost half a day straight.

  He blasted a breath through his lips then headed for the living area, preparing for an emotional encounter that would add to his exhaustion.

  And was shocked at what greeted him.

  A smiling, perfectly kempt Kane.

  “Hiya, buddy.”

  Leroux exchanged a quick thumping hug with his friend. “You look good. When I hadn’t heard from you for two weeks, I thought you were, well, you know.”

  Kane chuckled as he took a seat. “I was, but there’s nothing like the possibility of revenge to perk up a man, if you know what I mean.”

  Leroux’s mother frowned. “What are you up to, Dylan?”

  Kane grinned. “I don’t think you want to know.” He rose, pointing toward the bedroom. “Your son and I have something to discuss.”

  Leroux’s mother rolled her eyes. “You two talk, but don’t get my boy in trouble.” She stared at Kane. “When’s the last time you ate a proper meal that didn’t come out of a bottle of”—she sniffed—“scotch?”

  Kane shrugged. “I think I had ramen last night.”

  “Pfft. That’s just water, some noodles, and twice the daily recommended sodium in one bowl. I’ll fix you something proper.”

  “No time.”

  “Then I’ll fix you a sandwich.” Kane was about to say something when she jabbed the air with her finger. “And you’re going to eat it, young man!”

  Kane smiled. “Yes, Mrs. Leroux.” He gave Leroux a sideways glance. “Does this remind you of high school, or what?”

  Leroux laughed, the thoughts of those times with his friend dragging him from his funk if only for a brief moment. He led Kane to the bedroom then sat o
n the edge of the mattress as Kane closed the door then paced in front of the dresser.

  “Your mother is a force of nature.”

  “Tell me about it. Now, what’s going on? You said revenge?”

  Kane paused, regarding his friend for a moment. “So, they didn’t tell you either?”

  “Tell me what?”

  Kane resumed his pacing. “They found one of them in Kuala Lumpur. He just arrived a few hours ago.”

  Leroux tensed, unsure of how to feel. “No, they didn’t tell me, though I haven’t really been in the loop since, well, you know.”

  “Me neither, but someone wants us to know.”

  “Who?”

  Kane shrugged. “Sonya? She’s always been sweet on you. Maybe she wanted you to know.”

  “Then why did she tell you?”

  “Because she likes you. She doesn’t want you to get in trouble. By telling me, she’s helping you get revenge, but I’m the one who’ll get in trouble if something goes wrong.”

  Leroux pursed his lips, thinking. “I don’t know. It doesn’t sound like her.”

  Kane shrugged. “Well, whoever it is, it doesn’t matter. We’ve got a limited window to act.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Go get him.”

  Leroux’s eyebrows crawled up his forehead. “But by the time you get there, he could be gone.”

  “Which is why I need you backing me up.”

  “You mean go back to the office? They’ll never let me help you on a rogue op.”

  Kane shook his head, leaning against the dresser. “No, I want you to go to my ops center. We’ve done it before. You know it has everything you need.”