42

PULKOVO AIRPORT, ST. PETERSBURG, RUSSIA

THURSDAY, 4:13 P.M. MOSCOW STANDARD TIME (9:13 A.M. EST)

Jessica checked into the Emirates first-class departure lounge, accepted a tall flute of French champagne, and found her way to the private shower room. Once inside, she locked the door and turned the cold water on full blast. She opened the box of a cell phone she’d bought with cash at the Beeline airport kiosk, clicked a prepaid SIM card into place, and fired it up.

She didn’t want to make this call, but she knew she had no choice. She had done her job, dropped everything to take the crazy bullshit operation in Russia. She’d accepted the assignment to play the Deputy Director’s super-assassin Queen Sheba. She’d found the Bear. She’d gotten his next target. How could she have foreseen the target being a Nigerian judge? How could she have known the mission would cross paths with her husband, Judd? What were the chances?

The only escape now was to pass the target to the Deputy Director and bow out without jeopardizing the operation against the Bear. There was no other option. Most of all, she’d have to find a discreet way to warn Judd that Bola Akinola was in danger. That he was in danger. Dammit, this was becoming everything she had been trying to avoid. What had she done? What had Judd gotten himself into?

“Pan Western Logistics. How may I direct your call?” asked the nasal woman’s voice on the line.

“I’ve got a special order,” Jessica said. “Three hundred and six pounds. Overnight. San Diego to Anchorage.”

“Is that via Reno?”

“Las Vegas.”

“Please hold.”

Click, click, bleep, then “What the fuck phone is this?” barked the CIA’s Deputy Director.

“Burner,” she said.

“Christ,” he hissed. “No names on an open line. You have two minutes. Sounds like you’re inside a waterfall. Where the hell are you?”

“Airport. Plane leaves in twenty.”

“You see your man?”

“Affirmative.”

“You get your target?”

“We’ve got a problem.”

“Did. You. Get. Your. Target?” he repeated.

“Target acquired.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“It’s a judge,” she said.

“So?”

“A well-known foreign judge.”

“Where?”

“Nigeria.”

“Not a problem,” he said quickly. “Send the name and any details via text to the other system as soon as we hang up. Then get back here ASAP. Good work.”

“I . . .” Jessica hesitated.

“Spit it out.”

“I need out.”

“Out of what?” he snapped.

“The operation.”

“This operation? No. You aren’t out. Just the opposite. I’m bringing you in.”

“I don’t think so, sir.”

“We’ll discuss it face-to-face. I’ll want you to help run it from HQ. We’ve got lots of work left to do.”

“There’s no time for that,” she said.

“We’ve got time. You send the name and I’ll have surveillance on the judge by end of the day. We’ll have a team in-country within forty-eight hours. Execution and exfiltration will be ready to roll by late next week. Nigeria’s a tricky environment, but we’ve done it before. It’ll be quick. You’ll see.”

“Sorry, sir. It’s got to happen tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? What are you talking about?”

“Your man insisted it happen tomorrow. And that it has to be public.”

“Why the fuck would you agree to that?” the Deputy Director fumed. “We can’t pull off a credible decoy kill in one day.”

“You wanted him convinced I was the Queen. I did that. You wanted the target. I got it. But that’s the price. It has to happen tomorrow.”

The Deputy Director paused on the other end. Jessica could hear him breathing, could feel the wheels turning. “Fine. Tomorrow. I’ll make sure of it. Now get on a plane and get back here.”

“If there’s no time for a decoy kill, sir, what’s the play?”

“I’ll improvise.”

“You said there’s no time for a decoy kill.”

“That’s correct.”

“Sir, are you saying—”

“The world is messy and dangerous,” he said without emotion.

That’s exactly what I told Judd, Jessica thought. She felt sick to her stomach. “But, sir—”

“You’re a big girl. Put on your big-girl pants. We’re too close to go soft now. This is too important. I shouldn’t have to explain this to you.”

Jessica listened to the shower run as she thought through the implications of what she was hearing. Was the Deputy Director planning an assassination to protect his operation against the Bear? Of a foreign judge? A judge she now knew was working closely with her husband? Jessica’s neck ached.

“He’s got a family, sir.”

“If one crooked Nigerian judge has to—”

“I didn’t say he was crooked,” she interrupted.

“A judge in Nigeria?” the Deputy Director scoffed. “That’s somehow found his way onto your man’s target list? Get real.”

“He’s surrounded by civilians. You don’t want to do this.”

“You don’t have the big picture.”

“It’s going to be impossible to keep it clean. There could be collateral damage.”

“There’s too much at stake. I don’t need kosher. I just need this to happen. I’m hanging up now.”

“Sir, don’t do it.” Motherfucker, she thought.

“Not your call. You are the one who agreed to the deadline. This is actually on you. It’s going to happen tomorrow, one way or the other.”

Jessica rolled her head from side to side and felt the vertebrae in her neck crack back into place. Motherfucker.

Then she heard herself say, “I’ll do it.”