Jigsaw (Black Raven Book 2) Page 19

  Samantha walked further into the room, Zeus’s attention no longer on her, but on the four flat-screen television monitors. Her gaze followed his there. Each played a different scene. Only one was an actual television station, with a news show providing a recap of President Cameron’s earlier speech. Two monitors displayed three-dimensional maps of a city, with layers of detail being added at dizzying speeds as unseen hands zoomed in and out on different areas.

  The fourth screen revealed a man, with wavy hair and green eyes, high cheekbones, and an intensely serious look that was the exact look habitually worn by Zeus. Looking at him was like looking at Zeus—but not. He had the same full head of wavy black hair, the same high cheekbones, square jawline, olive-complexion, and broad shoulders. The left side of his mouth was drawn down in an almost-frown, exactly the expression Zeus wore.

  No two men could look so similar and be unrelated. In that final conversation seven years earlier, when Zeus had mentioned others in his life counting on him to do the right thing, he’d told her that his family was close, that his mother had never remarried after his dad had been murdered in an armed robbery. Zeus was the elder of two boys.

  Like the men here in the library, Zeus’s doppelganger–they had to be brothers—tapped away at his keyboard, glancing now and then at monitors showing him, she assumed, the same thing she was watching in Paris.

  Zeus’s double, save for the eyes, glanced into the camera with laser-like focus. “Zeus, Ragno, Grid A-7. Denver is painting it red, but we’ll need to explore it. High priority.”

  “Says who?” Zeus said.

  “Bill Goldman, and if he went there, radiation can’t be that bad.”

  Samantha recognized the name. Bill Goldman was a well-respected freelance reporter who travelled to far-flung destinations on high-profile stories. He was now in Paris, covering the ITT proceeding for 24-7, the cable news show that dominated worldwide news.

  She walked to the table where Abe and Charles sat. Their laptops were open, and each had papers related to the ITT proceeding in front of them. Neither focused on their own work. Their attention was captured by the monitors and Zeus.

  Charles, wearing a red cardigan over a white T-shirt, gave her a hello nod, and moved his computer to make room for her. “Sit here,” he whispered, gesturing to the chair on his left, the one remaining chair at the table that had a view of the monitors and the table where Zeus sat.

  As she sat in the chair that he indicated, Charles added, “Just received an email. Proceedings are postponed in the morning, but will start at noon.”

  She nodded, her attention focused on the monitors. “What is going on here?”

  “Analysts are building a map of Praptan for the bounty hunt team to use. They’re using intelligence collected since the meltdown, with radiation levels as indicators of where the bounty hunt team can go.”

  “Ragno,” Zeus said. “Do we have all the Goldman data?”

  “Yes. Goldman has been there three times. He’s theorized for years that Maximov hides in Praptan. Goldman did us a favor by sending me his backup data after I called him this afternoon. We owe him. I suspect that as soon as he has a chance to breathe after the coverage he’s doing for 24-7 regarding today’s bombing, he’ll call.”

  Zeus nodded. “Got it.”

  The green-eyed man looked into the camera, at Zeus. “Do not agree to a ride along.”

  Zeus glanced at the television monitor. A pulse beat at his temple as their gazes locked. “Wasn’t planning on it, but don’t tell me what to do. Just an FYI, baby brother, I’m your superior. Remember?”

  “Yes, Jesus. A fact you never let me forget.” Gabe used the Americanized, son-of-God pronunciation, instead of the Latin pronunciation of Zeus’s full name.

  “Grow up, Gabe.”

  “Angel, Zeus. Just to be clear…” Ragno’s voice was soothing and calm, as though she was used to being an intermediary between the two men. “Goldman knew we were proceeding with the bounty hunt before I said a thing. Yet another reminder that word is out. If Maximov is hiding in Praptan, and if we hope to surprise him, we only have a limited time frame with which to work.”

  Abe leaned towards Samantha, pushing his tortoise-shell glasses up his nose, his blue eyes sparkling with intense interest in the exchange between Zeus and his agent, and what was happening on the monitors. He wore slacks and loafers, but over his shirt he wore a gray sweatshirt with a Black Raven logo. Though the sweatshirt was large for him, he looked comfortable in it, as though he’d given up his Brooks Brothers-style polish and was trying to be one of them.

  “Abe,” Samantha asked, “how’s your arm?”

  He shrugged. “Fine.” He gestured with his chin to the monitors, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Gabe is leading the bounty hunt. Zeus—Jesus. Gabe—Michael Gabriel.” He arched an eyebrow, and gave her a slight eye roll and a smirk. “As in Archangels? Do you think their mom had high expectations for them when she named them?”

  Samantha chuckled as she glanced from the brother on the monitor to the brother in the room, eyeing each man as they projected a powerful aura of confident determination.

  “Ragno, give me a map with nothing but the Goldman areas of interest, and keep radiation levels constant,” Zeus said.

  Gabe looked into the camera. “Why don’t we just see what Goldman says, without worrying about radiation for a while? Remember, we’ll be carrying radiation detection devices.”

  “I remember, and no,” Zeus said, tone firm. “Keep radiation levels constant on the Goldman map. I want to assess the importance of each grid in light of radiation levels.”

  One of the monitors that had shown a map went dark. A new map appeared, as a basic grid of streets. As the map pulsed with an overlay of additional three-dimensional detail, Ragno said, “Radiation levels are red and orange. The Goldman priority areas are purple.”

  Gabe glanced at Zeus. “No matter how we dissect the intel, it looks like I’ll need more men. With Goldman’s data, and information I’ve gathered from other search efforts, there are just too many sectors that warrant a search.”

  Zeus drew a deep breath, his eyes on the monitors. “We need more intel.”

  Everyone in the room fell silent as the Goldman map was layered with more detail. Keeping an eye on the monitors, Sam turned on her laptop as she thought through whether any of the information she’d come upon as she’d worked on the ITT proceeding could be relevant to a potential search of Praptan.

  Before her laptop had powered up, Zeus slid into the empty chair at the table she was sharing with Charles and Abe. He placed his iPad in front of him. One of the agents at the table where Zeus had been sitting turned the camera in their direction. “Gabe?”

  His attention remained focused on something other than the camera for a few seconds, then his green eyes seemed to look right at her. “Yeah?”

  “Meet the Amicus team. Sam, Abe, Charles, meet Agent Michael Gabriel Hernandez. Gabe. My brother. He’s leading the bounty hunt.” Gabe’s eyes lingered on her, even though his fingers flew over the keyboard at the same time.

  Years earlier, she’d learned of Zeus’s closeness to his family only after he had started the conversation that led to him leaving her. Before that conversation, she and Zeus hadn’t talked much about the personal issues that had mattered so much to him. They’d been too busy with…other things.

  Big mistake.

  Falling in love with him before knowing anything of the subtlety and complexity that drove each of his decisions in the real world–the world that she was no part of—had been a bad move on her part. The mistake, of course, had started with the falling in love part. It had simply been exacerbated by the reality of his life. And hers.

  Now, as Gabe stared at her with an expression that suggested more than casual interest, she wondered whether he knew that she and Zeus had shared history. Gabe glanced at his computer screen, typed a short burst of commands, and glanced back at her. Something in the questioning look in
his eyes made her wonder whether he was typing a question about her, instant messaging Ragno or his brother for more information.

  Doesn’t matter.

  With Zeus’s left leg pressed solidly against her right, Samantha nodded hello to Gabe, and shifted her eyes to Zeus as she reminded herself not to dwell upon the interwoven tapestry of personal issues that made him the man he was. Even without thinking of the underlying complexity that drove him, the sheer physicality of him sitting close to her was enough of a distraction.

  She shifted her leg away from his, but in a few seconds he found hers again, the solid muscles of his thigh rock hard against hers. The table seated six. It was spacious enough for everyone to have private legroom.

  Zeus gave her that slight smirk of a smile, indicating he didn’t intend to respect her personal space. Being in a professional setting at the same table with a man with whom she’d just had mind-blowing sex, pretending that nothing happened, was a new one for her. Pretending there was nothing between them, however, was not new, and she could accomplish that despite the warm pressure of his leg, which had her insides quivering.

  Because there is nothing there. Remember?

  While her body reacted to the nearness of him with a yearning that took her breath, she composed her features to match the coolness in his expression.

  Focus on the task at hand.

  Maximov. Find him. Convict him. End him.

  She tore her attention from Zeus and stared at the maps on the monitors. Although the Goldman map had been stripped of most of the colors and detail reflected on the other map, red levels remained constant, and various areas were marked with x’s on both maps. The x’s had dates.

  “What are the x’s?” she asked.

  “Reported fatalities among prior teams that had the same idea we’re executing,” Zeus said.

  “I wasn’t aware of recent searches in Praptan,” Samantha said, “or fatalities there.”

  “Bounty hunter deaths don’t usually make it to the national news.” He shrugged. “Or documents that are admitted into ITT proceedings.”

  “How did Black Raven get the information?”

  Zeus was quiet for a second, as though weighing what to tell her. The eyes of his agents were on him. “We keep ourselves aware of what others in our business are doing,” he said, “in a variety of ways. One way that is paying off in this job is our standing tradition of treating other private security contractors and military personnel with respect. The world of special operations with high intensity jobs is small. Military personnel and agents from competing private security contractors are often thrown together in volatile situations. Respect promotes camaraderie. Some of the Maximov bounty hunters over the years have been private security contractors, either working for their company or chasing the bounty in their off time.”

  He turned to the monitor, his eyes on his brother. As he shifted, his leg moved away, but in a few seconds, it returned. “One of Gabe’s many strengths is that he has never met a stranger. He called his friends on this one—and that includes bounty hunters and members of the governmental task force looking for Maximov. They’ve given him answers. Much of the intel we’re layering onto the maps comes from them.”

  “How generous of them to share,” she said, unable to keep a slight bit of sarcasm out of her voice.

  Zeus chuckled. “Yes, Sam. We’ve had to pay for some of this information, and your grandfather is paying for this too. But because of men like Gabe, at least we can be reasonably certain they’re not selling us bullshit that will get our agents killed. Though that possibility is always considered.”

  “I have a couple of ideas for intel,” Samantha said. “First—Ragno, have you found the 2010 Joint Task Force Study entitled Praptan: Birthplace of a Terrorist?”

  There was a pause. “Not yet.”

  “The study is in high level files that aren’t a part of the ITT record, at least not that I know of,” Samantha said. “It takes information known in 2010 on Maximov and pinpoints areas of interest in Praptan. In 2010 a team of SEALs went in and searched those areas. Needless to say, searches were unproductive. The study may help this effort.”

  Before she could say anything else, Ragno said. “We’ll find it. You don’t need to compromise yourself by actually sending me information. As long as I know what to look for, I’m golden.”

  “The 2010 task force talked to people who taught at the university. It was a huge effort, and provided no answers,” Samantha said. “With Black Raven analysts looking at it, with new information that has been developed since then, maybe something will turn up.

  “Second—in 2009 Vladimer Stollen and Maximov’s son, Vasily Maximov, were apprehended and convicted of the hijacking on Northern Lights flight 875.” The flight, which was routed for LaGuardia, had been hijacked by a team of six Maximovists. Military aircraft on regular patrol in the area intercepted the flight and shot it down before it reached its intended crash site, which was later determined to be the United Nations headquarters in Manhattan. The plane crashed in the East River. All of the one hundred forty-three passengers aboard died, along with the crew and hijackers. The ensuing investigation revealed that one of the hijackers had been a flight attendant. Two of the hijackers were experienced pilots. Their plan had been a suicide mission. Communications with the hijacking team led investigators to apprehend and convict Stollen and Vasily. Their mistake had been they were in the United States when the event occurred. Now they were both in a U.S. prison and were sentenced to death.

  “We have their files,” Gabe said. “They weren’t helpful to our search for Maximov.”

  “I’m not suggesting you look at the files,” Samantha said, as the door to the library opened. Three agents walked in with steaming pans of food, as the redheaded agent she recognized as the chef in charge of the kitchen made his way to the marble-topped table they’d used as a buffet on Tuesday evening. Once there, he lit waiting chafing dishes and directed placement of the pans. The aroma of roasted meats and vegetables filled the room.

  “What are you suggesting?” Gabe asked.

  “Except for providing swabs and DNA that will enable us to prove that the man who is ultimately apprehended is actually the man the world knows as Andre Maximov, Vasily Maximov has been a dead end ever since he was apprehended,” Zeus said.

  Samantha nodded. “His appeals are ongoing. So are the appeals of Stollen. More than seven years after their offense. The public’s disgust that these appeals take so long is part of the reason the ITT proceedings have no appeals.” She glanced at Gabe. “I’m suggesting we interview Stollen.”

  “Why?”

  “Information Stollen provided led investigators to conduct the 2010 Joint Task Force Study entitled Praptan: Birthplace of a Terrorist and the resulting search. Something that isn’t a matter of public record, something that I learned as I worked on these ITT proceedings, is that he was offered a pretty sweet deal at the time for the information he provided. The death penalty was taken off the table. His sentence became for a fixed, 20-year term, not life. Once the 2010 search of Praptan proved unsuccessful, the deal was taken off the table.”

  “We know Stollen was Maximov’s second-in-command. In fact, aside from Vasily, Stollen is the world’s last proven link to the Maximov-In-Exile organization. I say I try to interview him and ask him what the teams missed in 2010. Stollen has had seven years to rot in a cell and think about the looming death penalty. Plenty of time to think about anything he might have omitted in his prior debriefing.”

  The chef opened a wine bottle, while the agents who were assisting him made another trip to the kitchen.

  Zeus leaned forward, eyes gleaming with a light that indicated he saw possibilities in her comment, while Gabe shook his head.

  “No one has interviewed Stollen since then?” Zeus asked.

  “As far as I know,” Samantha said, “no.”

  “Access to Stollen is an insurmountable problem,” Gabe said. “The attorney who represents
him in his appeals is actually Robert Brier—U.S. Defense Counsel in the ITT proceeding. Brier has made it clear that Stollen is off limits to anyone, especially bounty hunters looking for Maximov.”

  “Brier has gotten court orders in this ITT proceeding that restrict access,” Abe added, “and he isn’t likely to change his mind, roll over, and let us in. Right, Charles?”

  “Definitely not the sort of man to change his mind, unless it’s to his benefit.” Charles tapped at his keyboard, stopped typing, then read for a second, arching his eyebrow. “Stollen is imprisoned at ADX Florence, Colorado. It’s a supermax. The Alcatraz of the Rockies. You won’t be talking to him without a court order.”

  “While Brier is defending the individual defendants, we all know his hidden agenda is protecting Stollen, which means he is protecting Maximov and his organization. Just like everyone’s agenda is to pursue Maximov and his organization. So”—Samantha gave Gabe a nod—“Stollen has been off limits to the lawyers in the ITT proceeding as well. Stanley Morgan and I were the proponent of the motion to interview Stollen that was made in the ITT proceeding. Which was denied. There’ve been concerns regarding relevance, and Brier has won those arguments.”

  “He must have advanced a damn narrow definition of relevance,” Zeus said.

  “The concept of relevance is complicated.” Samantha nodded in agreement with Zeus. “And subject to interpretation. Brier’s argument is that a man who was convicted more than seven years ago obviously has nothing to say about the four terrorist acts this ITT is trying. I might not completely agree with Brier, but he is a well-respected attorney in the community of international law, and he has a great track record on human rights issues. He’s persuasive. When he argues, he wins.”

  “So how can you get us in?” Gabe asked.

  Samantha locked eyes with Gabe, while Zeus chuckled. Her eyes shifted to Zeus, who was focused on her. He gave her a smile. A real one, with white teeth showing and a sparkle in his eyes. There was a trace of admiration in it, and her insides melted, while her heartbeat quickened. He loved intelligent women and had loved that she was smart. She knew that, because he’d told her so, years earlier. They’d had that conversation in bed. When he’d shown her just how turned on he became by an intelligent woman.