Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
“Better?” Owen smirked as he assessed her back in her element at their office in Manhattan.
“I’m useless without my lab. It’s good to be back.” She tucked her black wig into her bottom drawer and fixed on a smile.
They were alone while the rest of Bravo met up with Echo near the hotel in the Bronx.
Had she really been wrong about Samir’s plans? Having the men from Detroit show up in New York felt too easy. Maybe she was so used to messy and complicated she couldn’t believe they had unturned every last stone.
“It’s been a crazy twenty-four hours.” His brows drew inward.
“A crazy few weeks . . .” Between the op and what had happened with Asher, she felt like her head was stuck inside a pinball machine.
Asher’s words from the hotel yesterday kept rolling around in her mind, knocking the breath out of her.
Yeah, I love her. I’ve tried not to. I’ve tried really fucking hard. Had he said those words in the heat of the moment? To prove a point to Luke? Or . . .?
Owen dropped down behind her desk and opened his laptop as her cell began ringing.
It was Grace. She was probably worried, but Jessica couldn’t tell her Egon was dead. Her team had “never been” in Austria.
“Not going to answer that?”
She put the call to voicemail and tried to ignore the twinge of guilt.
Grace didn’t even know what had happened with Asher on Valentine’s Day. She couldn’t open up, not even to her best friend.
“Does Samantha know you’re back?” she asked as he input his password into the laptop.
“Yeah, of course. The woman would kill me if I didn’t call her the second the bird touched the ground.”
Owen had someone. Her brother had someone. And she had Asher. Well, sort of. She was doing a damn good job at pushing him away.
And now her brother knew everything. He’d barely spoken to her, aside from operational details, since he’d caught her and Asher kissing.
He probably had no idea what to say, but she didn’t want him angry at Asher.
Asher didn’t deserve anger from anyone. He was a good man, a better man than he gave himself credit for. A man worth fighting for—but was she capable of that fight? A fight with herself, apparently?
“Let’s see if your program can get a name for the guy who emptied Samir’s bank account.”
“What?” She circled the desk to view his screen. “You didn’t tell me you snagged an image.”
“You were asleep on the flight, and I didn’t want to wake you. Besides, we couldn’t do anything until we got to the office, anyway.”
“Owen.” She smacked the side of his arm with the back of her hand. “You should have woken me. Someone from Bravo—”
“They agreed to let you sleep.” He shook his head. “You’re no good to us if you’re totally spent.”
She cursed under her breath. “Fine. Show me what you have.”
“I got three great angles of the prick.”
When he showcased the images of the man on the screen, her heart catapulted into her throat, and she snatched the laptop from the desk to study it closer. “Shit.”
“What? You know him?”
“Yeah, I’d say.” She handed him back the laptop and briefly closed her eyes. “He’s a CIA field officer.”
“You were given direct orders to back the fuck down.” Rutherford massaged his temples as he sat behind Luke’s desk as if it were his. “It was you who took out our assassin? You gift wrapped him for the Germans?”
“Did you really expect us to stop?” Luke remained standing in front of the desk.
Jessica took a seat alongside him. “When did you turn Samir into an asset for the CIA?”
Rutherford stood, walked to the bar, and poured himself a Scotch. He raised the tumbler to his lips and faced them. “When Samir’s brother, Arif, died eight months ago, Samir was approached with the same offer he got.”
Shit. She’d been afraid he’d say that. Her skin crawled, and her fingertips buried deeper into the leather arms of the chair.
“The CIA recruited Samir’s brother to be an asset after the op in Aleppo?
” She tsked. “The agency was so hell-bent on making sure I wouldn’t help Ara and the others, and then . . .”
“What’d you give him in exchange for being an asset?” Luke asked.
“Money. Training. The usual.” He polished off the rest of his drink and set the empty glass atop Luke’s desk before perching a hip against it.
“Didn’t you learn anything from what happened with bin Laden?” Luke snapped.
“Samir lost his brother,” Jessica said. “His state of mind would be too volatile for him to honestly consider the same position you gave his brother. How could you not see that it’d be a risky move? If he found out his brother had died because he’d been helping the CIA—”
“Assad killed Arif,” Rutherford interjected.
“Yeah, and it was probably because Assad found out he was an informant for you,” she responded.
“Samir’s brother was an invaluable asset. And he didn’t help us for money. He just wanted Assad gone. When ISIS dug their claws into Syria, he also helped provide us with intel that brought down multiple HVTs.”
“And so you thought Samir would follow suit?” She pressed her hands to her thighs, fighting the tremble in her legs. “You were clearly wrong.”
Rutherford was quiet for a moment, his pupils constricting. “Everything was fine until a few months ago.”
“What happened?” But did she want to hear the truth?
“Samir approached us with an idea.”
“Let me guess.” Luke’s voice was so low the hairs on her neck stood. “Take control of his uncle’s old group. There was a power vacuum at the time. Since the group’s against both Assad and ISIS, why not have a man on the inside?”
Rutherford’s chest slowly rose and fell, and a visible redness advanced up his neck.
“You guys taught him how to code so he could communicate intel, and then you armed and funded a loose cannon.” She shook her head. “And then he went and disappeared on you. Is that why you protected the girls in Berlin—worried he’d hurt them . . . or were you using them to try and draw out Samir?”
Rutherford loosened his tie and eyed his watch. “It’s over, Miss Scott.” The use of her last name right now felt almost condescending. “He’s not going to win, so there’s no point in further discussing this.”
“How do you know for certain?” Luke braced his palms against the desk.
“We emptied his accounts and took into custody the arms dealer Samir had been working with.”
“How’d you find who he was working with?”
He coughed into a closed fist. “Actually, we owe your team for that, I suppose. The arms dealer was on the list of names you retrieved from that laptop in France last month. We’d been tracking him when we discovered he was working with Samir.”
“What were they planning?” she asked.
“A chemical attack in New York. Subway station. Something about wanting to hurt Americans the same way we let Assad hurt Syrians.”
“We?” Luke lifted his hand from the desk.
“He blames us for Assad still being in power.” Rutherford stroked his graying beard.
“I don’t think he would’ve gone through with that,” she said, needing to believe her words.
“The point is—it’s over,” Rutherford began. “You didn’t need to involve yourselves in this situation. We would’ve gotten the assassin, too.”
“Samir is still out there, though. And the men from Detroit, the ones he’s been working with, are in our city right now.” Jessica gripped the back of her neck.
“Officers are about to pick those men up for questioning. I’m sure your buddies, who are also tailing them, will be calling you soon,” Rutherford announced. “And as for Samir, he should be getting off a plane at JFK as we speak. Homeland is waiting at the gates.”
“That’s why you were already in New York when we called.” She tensed. “I don’t believe it, though.” Her arms went limp at her sides, and she observed her brother as he looked back to find her eyes. The same concern in his gaze.
“Well, it’s true. Samir took a flight out of Egypt under one of the aliases his arms dealer provided him. We have him on camera boarding the plane.”
“But you emptied his accounts, and he probably figured out you took his guy into custody, which means he wouldn’t be stupid enough to fly with that passport.” She glanced heavenward in thought.
“He’s twenty. Not Einstein,” Rutherford sputtered.
“Smart enough to pull the wool over your eyes and mastermind all of this.” She took a breath. “What about his mom?” She looked back at him. “Samir wouldn’t leave his mom behind. And since she’s not in Syria, which you know because you had a DEVGRU team go—”
“If she has anything to do with this, we’ll find her.” Rutherford moved to stand directly in front of Luke and Jessica. “I like you two, but orders are orders. And you were instructed to back off this case.”
“Yeah, because you had to protect your ass.” Luke shook his head. “Your mistake almost got my sister blown up. And now an innocent woman is dead. How about a fucking apology?”
She grabbed hold of his bicep, urging him to back down. “Luke.” She didn’t want him throwing away his life’s work because of her.
“You trusted Ara,” Rutherford said to her. “That was your mistake.”
When the director backed up a step, Luke relaxed his shoulders, and she released her grip on his arm.
“Let’s hope it’s Samir who gets off that plane,” Luke began, “because if it’s not, any deaths will be on your hands.”
Rutherford’s phone began ringing a split second later. “This should be Homeland now.”
She crossed her arms and waited as he answered, but when he turned his back and lowered his head, her stomach dropped.
“Check again. The flight manifest says he was on that plane.” He paused to take a raspy breath. “Find him!” He ended the call and slowly faced them.
Jessica glimpsed Luke out of the corner of her eye before directing her focus back on Rutherford. “Are you ready to admit you need us now?”