Chapter 26
Daisy lay in bed looking up at the shadows dappling the ceiling and listening to the sound of traffic in the distance.
Didn’t matter how tired she was, she couldn’t sleep.
The FBI had finally deciphered the letter she’d taken from Amed’s desk. It had been written in Gowro, a severely endangered language from the Kohistan region of Pakistan, that few people could read. According to it, Amed planned to carry out an attack in the name of Allah.
Nausea churned inside her. Daisy shifted restlessly on the pillow. It didn’t make sense. He’d always told her how much he detested those who twisted the Koran to justify violence.
Had he been lying? Playing the long game to suck them into being blindly compliant or stupidly complicit? Was he working with Konrad Bocharov?
Her throat ached from holding back tears.
Amed would never see his family again. The pity of that competed with the awfulness of knowing he’d kill her and her lab mates and set off some kind of nuclear catastrophe that could do untold amounts of damage if he wasn’t stopped.
It was the antithesis of why she’d become a nuclear engineer.
The antithesis of making the world a better place.
Had he killed Francois? Had the professor somehow uncovered his plan or seen him with Bocharov?
She didn’t know. She assumed the FBI was trying to figure it out.
Cisco was on the couch while Regan had opted for the blowup mattress on the floor. She should have given him the bed considering she couldn’t sleep anyway.
Where was Jordan?
Was he safe? Did he think about what she was doing, how she was feeling?
Her cell lit up on the bedside table, and she picked it up, staring at a message from the man himself, as if she’d conjured him with her thoughts.
When this is all over, we need to talk.
God, no, not the dreaded “we have to talk” bullshit where he told her all the reasons they wouldn’t work or how he just didn’t suit her.
Nope. Not interested.
Why would she be interested in hearing everything that was wrong with her? Or worse? Him suggesting they maybe see each other again, date for a little while, probably so he didn’t feel so guilty regarding her father after he’d fucked her against the wall so earnestly that morning.
She blew out a short, sharp breath.
Oh, yeah, he hadn’t been thinking about her daddy then.
The memory made her tingle.
Had it only been that morning? So much had happened since then, it felt like a month ago now.
She waited to see if he’d reply, maybe try to persuade her somehow.
But it already hurt and that was with all her barriers in place. She wasn’t about to pull them down and let him worm his way into her heart so he could shatter it later.
No way. Not this time.
Finally, he replied.
Liar.
Outraged, she sucked in a breath. WTF? The guy had some nerve. Her pulse buzzed as she contemplated how best to reply.
A sound snagged her attention. The creak of a floorboards and then her door opening. Sounded as if someone had left the apartment.
She swallowed. The FBI planned to arrest Amed sometime tonight. Maybe Regan had heard something. She thought about following him and asking him, but he wouldn’t tell her until Amed was in custody and any co-conspirators were identified and locked up.
The knowledge made her heart hurt. She set her phone down and closed her eyes, determined to get some rest now she was home.
The Hostage Rescue Team positioned themselves in stacked formation, holding at the two main entrances, having decided not to go in via the roof because there was the distinct possibility that the occupants of the bedrooms would hear them below.
They’d captured the guy patrolling the grounds, quickly and quietly.
Jordan was last in line behind Ford Cadell and Hugo, the team’s Belgian Malinois.
The fact they’d let Jordan take part at all was a miracle and, no matter how tempted he was to put a bullet through Bocharov’s front teeth, he would honor Ackers’ trust in him and only shoot anyone who pointed a gun at him or his teammates.
“Target two down.” Luke Romano confirmed they’d neutralized the second guard in the smaller house.
“On my count,” Payne Novak instructed over the comms.
Shane Livingstone stepped up with the breacher.
“Five, four, three, two, one, go.”
On “go,” Shane hit the door hard, and it shot open and banged against the wall, but the guys were already inside and heading upstairs.
Jordan followed with his H&K 416 held to his shoulder. Echo Team had the other side of the house as Charlie Squad hit the stairs.
A man ran into the hallway buck naked. Raised his hands when he saw the approaching heavily-armed, black-clad figures. “What is the meaning of this? What is the meaning!”
“On the floor.” Aaron Nash held the weapon on him as Malik Keeme slipped plastic zip ties around the man’s wrists to tie his hands behind his back.
Despite his training, Jordan’s pulse revved.
Livingstone and Will Griffin went into another room and had two more individuals out of bed and on the floor being restrained.
A woman started screaming.
Grady spoke over comms. “We have the target plus a female.”
No shots had been fired, which was always a relief. In fact, aside from the guards, Jordan hadn’t seen a single weapon. A feeling of foreboding began to fill him as he strode toward the master bedroom with Ryan Sullivan on his shoulder.
A bald, broad, chunky man was on his knees facing in the other direction to the bedroom door. Bocharov? The size and shape of his head and sound of his voice matched. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Quiet.” Donnelly snapped.
But the man ignored her. “I demand to know what is going on. I demand to speak to your president, immediately.”
President? Jordan frowned.
“I am the Ambassador extraordinary and plenipotentiary of the Russian Federation to the United States of America, and I have diplomatic immunity as do my staff. I demand an explanation about what you are doing here, waving guns at us, threatening us. I will make sure every one of you loses your job. I will make sure you never sleep soundly again!”
“Is that a threat?” Grady bristled.
“No, young man, it is a promise.”
Jordan lowered his weapon and strode around to stand in front of the bald guy. “Sonofabitch.”
“Well?” Novak demanded in his ear. “Is it Bocharov trying to pull a fast one or not?”
Jordan swallowed the knot in his throat. “No, sir. I believe we just raided the Russian Ambassador.”
It was the smirk that did it. The smirk that told him this had all been carefully choreographed and that the ambassador knew exactly who they were after and had deliberately tried to trick them.
It was a distraction, just like that night Bocharov had murdered his family.
His heart started hammering. He ignored the malevolent glitter in the other man’s eyes, strode out of the room, and then hurried down the stairs.
He met Novak at the door and pulled the comms off and flung them away. “I need a chopper to get to Richmond ASAP.”
“Why?” Novak’s frown looked thunderous.
“Daisy—”
“Is fine. I just spoke to Regan and updated him. She’s fine. She’s in bed asleep.” Novak clasped his hand on his arm.
Jordan shook him off. “Bocharov planned this. He planned all of it. I think he’ll go after Daisy while we’re all tied up in bureaucratic knots.”
“Jordan, we just conducted an armed raid on the Russian Ambassador. There’s going to be a fuck-load of paperwork and red tape to wade through. Frankly,” Novak sounded worried and he was damn near unflappable, “we’ll all be lucky to keep our jobs.”
“He’s part of the plan, goddamn it. The ambassador was in on it. This was staged deliberately to make us believe it was Bocharov.”
Novak’s expression was a cross between exasperation and pity. “Head back. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, assuming the director doesn’t arrest my ass for starting World War Three.”
“It already started.” Jordan strode toward the vehicles. He knew he sounded insane, but he also understood the enemy better than any of them. He had to get to Daisy.
He tried calling her, but she didn’t pick up. He tried calling Regan, but it went straight to voicemail.
A shadow moved, and Krychek had his pistol out and pointed only to realize it was Alex Parker.
“Fuck. Alex.”
“Sorry.” The other man stepped out of the shadows. “What happened?”
“Motherfucker set us up along with help from the Russian Ambassador and his entourage. What did you find on their plane?”
Alex smiled. “Enough to know the ambassador is gonna have some tough questions to answer in the morning. The New York Times and Washington Post both got a hold of information proving he was in collusion with a Russian arms dealer previously believed to be dead and that he knew exactly what he was doing when he stayed here tonight.”
They’d been set up. Just like he’d been set up all those years ago.
“I need to get to Daisy.” Sweat formed on his back. “Novak thinks I’m paranoid, but why stage this kind of distraction only to humiliate us?” He shook his head. “It’s what Konrad did the night he murdered my family, and I need to reassure myself he’s not going to target Daisy.”
“You care for her.”
Jordan dragged both hands through his hair. “Of course, I care for her, but I’d be worried even if I didn’t. He’s a fucking monster, Alex. An evil fucking monster, and if he finds out you’re helping me, everyone you care about is in danger too.”
Alex held his gaze for a long moment, but this was not news to the other man.
Alex jerked his head toward one of the black Suburbans. “Think they’ll miss one?”
Shit. They didn’t have any transportation, and worry gnawed on his nerves like a mouse on a live wire.
Jordan looked back at the little bird helicopters set well back from where HRT had staged. Novak hadn’t actually said no. “Let’s see if the pilot will drop us off close to where Daisy lives. It’s not as if he’ll have anything else to do tonight.”