CIA HEADQUARTERS, LANGLEY, VIRGINIA
SATURDAY, 7:04 A.M. EST
Where is Jessica Ryker?” the Deputy Director of the CIA roared. The veins in his forehead were pulsating. His secretary knew this was a terrible sign.
“Still trying to track her down,” she said.
“Keep trying, dammit!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Call the FAA. Have them check every inbound flight over the past twelve hours.”
“I already did that. They’re reporting no one named Ryker on any inbound commercial flights.”
“Well, tell them to check again!” he roared. “And have the CBP check the private plane arrival logs, too.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And get me the goddamn Crime and Narcotics Center on the line. Right now!”
What the hell happened yesterday in Nigeria? The question spun in his head like a windmill in a typhoon. His last direct contact with Jessica Ryker was their agreement that she would take out the judge, then report back to Langley so they could plot their next move against the Bear. His last update from assets in the field reported that Jessica had arrived safely in Lagos but ditched her Agency fixer soon afterward. She’d thrown him right out of the car and took off by herself. What the fuck, Jessica?
The next thing the Deputy Director learned was that there had been an incident just off the airport highway involving a vehicle from the U.S. consulate. SIGINT monitoring of the police and local intelligence communications had reported a fire, multiple gunshots, and eventually a body discovered at the site. The photos from the scene were useless, as the corpse was charred beyond recognition. And he was still waiting for the DNA analysis of the sample an asset had swiped at the morgue. What the hell happened in Nigeria?
Then Jessica disappeared. No communication, no electronic footprint. She must have fled the country. But how?
“I have CNC on secure line four, sir.”
The Deputy Director snatched the phone out of the cradle. “What do you know about the Bear?”
“Chatter spiked yesterday, indicating some disturbance in their network. Someone important in the Bear’s inner circle seems to have gone missing.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know, sir. But the chatter has since dissipated.”
“Which means what?”
“We don’t know that, either. Not yet. But the channels we had been using to ghost-plant Queen Sheba are dead. Everyone in the chain has gone underground.”
“Dead?”
“Yes, sir. Looks like we lost him. Whatever happened in Lagos yesterday spooked the Bear. We’re back to square one.”
“Sweet Jesus, do you have any idea where Queen Sheba is now?” he demanded, trying to contain his temper.
“No, sir.”
“Do you have any new leads on the Bear’s links into the FSB or the army or the Politburo?”
“I’m sorry. Nothing new.”
“So we still don’t know if the Bear is a criminal or working for higher-ups in the Russian government? We don’t really know why he’s targeting Chinese oil executives?”
“That’s correct, sir.”
“And now that Queen Sheba is burned, we’ve lost our best chance to find out?”
“Yes, I believe so, sir.”
“Assemble the team at eight o’clock,” he demanded. “We need to figure out what the fuck happened. What we need to clean up. And what the fuck we’re going to do next. Got it?”
The Deputy Director slammed the phone down before he heard an answer. He was too busy trying to decide what to do with Jessica Ryker. How many times can she go rogue without consequences? How many times can I let Jessica Ryker off the hook? To get back on the Bear’s trail, I’m going to need my very best operative. I’m going to need—
“Got her!” came a shout from outside his office.
The door flew open. “CBP has a ‘J. Ryker’ on a private plane that touched down at Dulles just after midnight this morning,” his secretary announced. “Two J. Rykers, actually.”
“She’s back in Washington? Are you telling me she’s been back for seven hours and hasn’t come back online?”
“Looks that way, sir.”
“So, where the hell is she?”
“I don’t know. She’s not picking up any of her phones. They’re all going straight to voice mail.”
“Keep trying. If she doesn’t turn up within the next sixty minutes, send a security team to her house in Georgetown to kick in the fucking door.”
How many times can I let Jessica Ryker off the hook?