January 15, CIA Safe House, Italy
“THIS HAS BEEN GOING ON forever.” Ethan waved toward the living room.
Zoe glanced past Ethan to her mother, brother, and father. They were arguing again. Over what, she had no idea. Her mother said something, then her father, then Matteo seemed to be trying to calm both of them down.
“Don’t worry about it, Ethan. They’ll work it out eventually.” Zoe glanced at her family again. “Probably.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about it. I mean I’m not worried about them. I’m worried for my own sanity.”
“You need to get out in the field more often, Ethan.”
Ethan turned his attention to Drake. “Really? So I can go off half-cocked like you did? What the hell were you thinking, Drake?”
“Stop.” Zoe held her hands up. Ethan and Drakehad been arguing about Drake’s decision to try to save Hank Robertson. Neither of them had seen the other’s side of it, although Zoe thought that Ethan probably wasn’t going to charge Drake with anything. She was tired of listening to them. It was enough to try to stay out of the conversation between her parents and her brother. “We have more important things to discuss.”
“Yeah, like how we’re going to stop the Order,” Drake said.
“We need to bring in a team and take them down. I’ve called it in, but we have a minor problem.” Ethan glanced at Mira and Zeke, then turned back to Zoe and Drake. “Evidently we need to secure the Italian government’s cooperation before we send anyone in.”
“Oh, come on, Ethan. Are we back to that shit again? We could go in and take them down and be done before the Italian government even knows we were here.”
“I don’t make the policy, Drake, I just follow it. Something you don’t seem to have a knack for.”
“Look. I did what I thought needed to be done. I haven’t divulged any secrets. I haven’t done anything wrong. But if you want to haul my sorry ass in front of an inquisition, you just go ahead.”
“Don’t think I’m not tempted. You screwed up, Drake. I don’t know why and I don’t really care. But you broke more than a few rules. The only thing savingyour ass is that you didn’t cause any harm and you were actually helpful in the long run. Otherwise, I’d—”
“Enough!”
Both men turned to Zoe.
“I think we can all agree that even though Drake might have made a couple of poor choices, he didn’t really do anything wrong and he managed to save my ass in the bargain. The point is, what do we do now?” She glanced over at her family members, who were still in the midst of their argument. Or maybe it was a new argument altogether. Hard to tell.
“Mom, Dad. In case you haven’t noticed, Matteo is about to drop in his tracks.”
Mira and Zeke both turned toward her, silent for a brief moment. Then they started in on each other again. Each blaming the other for Matteo’s condition and their respective lack of attention to that fact.
Zoe walked over to her brother and slid her shoulder under his arm. “Matteo, I think you need some rest. Come on. Let me get you back to bed.”
“But if they would just listen.” He shook his head. “Either one of them.”
“I know, I know.” Zoe guided him down the hallway. “The thing is, there’s no sense in you getting in between them. Actually, I think it’ll go faster if they’re just left to duke it out between themselves. In the meantime, you can get some rest.” She pushedopen the door to the bedroom and guided him to the bed. He slumped down onto the mattress and curled into a fetal position. Zoe pulled the covers over him and headed back to the front room.
“If you two insist on arguing, can you at least not do it in front of Matteo? I mean, you could just give him a little time to get over having been abducted and drugged and finding out that his birth father isn’t really dead. Is that really asking too much of you two?”
Her parents looked at her and then at each other, then back to her again.
“That’s better. Maybe the two of you could go sit over there and talk—quietly—for a minute?” She walked back to Ethan and Drake, who were speaking in hushed tones in the corner.
“What’s the latest on the detonation device we gave to the terrorist cell?” Drake asked.
“We gave a detonation device to terrorists?” Zoe asked.
Ethan scowled. “It’s part of a plan. We’re tracking it to find the terrorists.” He turned back to Drake. “It’s somewhere in Iraq. Robyn tries to keep track of it, but there are some problems. She can’t always get a lock on it from the satellite.”
“Let’s hope it stays in Iraq.”
“I could use some tea,” Zoe said.
“I don’t think we have tea. There’s coffee,” Ethan said.
“Coffee would work.”
“I wouldn’t mind a cup,” Drake said.
“Me, too,” Ethan agreed.
Zoe looked from one man to the other. “Are you two telling me that neither of you knows how to actually make coffee?”
Drake shrugged. “I know how. I just don’t know where it is.”
Zoe turned to Ethan. “I’m assuming you do?”
“You know, Zoe, this is a bitchy side that I’ve never seen from you before.”
“Maybe you just haven’t been paying attention, Ethan,” Drake said with a grin.
Zoe glared at him. “The question is, what are we going to do about the Order? Logan says they’re getting ready to move out.”
Ethan shook his head. “I can’t do anything until I get clearance.”
“Logan said they’re headed to Switzerland,” Zoe said.
“Can you get clearance for Switzerland?” Drake asked. “‘Cause waiting just isn’t an option here. Logan said in a day or two. I suspect it’ll be moved up once they find that Hank is dead and Zoe and I are missing. I’m going to go back and follow them.”
“I’m going with you.”
Both men turned to Zoe.
“Why?” Drake demanded.
“Absolutely not,” Ethan said.
“Because I’m involved. Because Logan is still there and he needs help. Because we need to take these people down.” She turned to Ethan. “Absolutely not?” She held up a hand to stop whatever answer he might have had. “These people have terrorized me and my family. And they’re planning on terrorizing a lot of other people. That is not acceptable to me. And it shouldn’t be acceptable to you, either.”
“I can’t sanction an operation when I can’t provide backup for you.” He sank onto one of the vinyl dinette chairs.
“I don’t have a problem with that,” Drake said.
Zoe shook her head. “Me, either.”
January 15, Arlington, Virginia
Hasan and Ali had watched Isaac Jacobs for eight days. Today they were in the back of a utility van waiting for him to leave his house. They had been there for an hour when the kitchen light came on. Ali checked his watch and made a note in a spiral-bound notebook.
“Right on time,” he said to Hasan.
“He is very predictable. That will make our job easier.”
Minutes later a light flicked on upstairs. They knew this was Jacobs’s bathroom from the floor plans they had been given. The light remained on for nineteen minutes. Ali made another note in the notebook. On previous days the light had stayed on a minimum of eighteen minutes, a maximum of twenty-three. The kitchen light, he knew, would stay on until Jacobs left his house, which normally occurred at a quarter past seven.
Jacobs would then drive his five-year-old BMW to the Supreme Court, where he would work, returning home at six thirty, unless he had made plans to have dinner with someone.
They also knew that Jacobs would be wearing a dark gray or blue suit and a white shirt with a conservative tie. They had videotaped him on several occasions, and the tapes had been sent to Ziyad so Rashid could learn to mimic his movements. Jacobs walked with a mild limp, his head slightly down and forward, left hand usually in a pocket. When the weather was warm enough to not require an overcoat, they could see the white pen in his breast pocket. It was always there.
“He is wearing the gray suit, today,” Hasan said as Ali made another note. It was exactly seven thirteen. When Jacobs’s car had driven down the street and turned left, Ali and Hasan emerged from the back of the van. They carried rakes and shovels up thewalkway and across the yard to the gated fence that surrounded Jacobs’s backyard. They closed the gate behind them and approached the back door, protected from the view of the neighbors by the eight-foot privacy fence and surrounding trees.
The first time they had entered the house, Hasan had disabled the security alarm. Later they had gotten a videotape of Jacobs entering the security code. Jacobs was lax in covering the keypad when he punched in the code. He’d never suspected the van marked with the cable company’s logo was taping him with a telephoto lens.
Hasan and Ali moved quickly through the house looking for anything unusual or different from the last time they had been there. Nothing. Isaac Jacobs was a man of habit. Highly organized, he kept everything in the same place, did everything at the same time.
And that would be his downfall. Not that there was anything he could have done to prevent it. Hasan and Ali would have found a way, no matter the impediments. They took the apparent ease of their mission as a sign from Allah that it was meant to be.
Ali passed a display of photographs on the wall of Jacobs’s home office. A nicely framed photo of Jacobs, his late wife, and their two daughters was surrounded by individual pictures of the family members. Ali remembered the wedding ring Jacobs still wore, ten years after the death of his wife. Jacobs might be an infidel,but he was devoted to his wife and family.
“You will join her soon,” Ali murmured to Jacobs’s photograph.
January 16, Florence, Italy
“You were right,” Zoe said. “They’re moving out sooner than Logan thought they would.” From their position at the end of the street, she and Drake watched several men loading a white moving truck.
“They haven’t loaded any furniture. I’m guessing they’re taking all their files and whatever equipment they had here.”
“So, they must have a facility in Switzerland. Probably where they do most of the work?”
Drake pointed at the mansion. “And now, here come the players.”
Zoe watched as Weisbaum, Logan, and an elderly man she thought might be the man she saw speaking to the group got into a Mercedes sedan. “I wonder where von Bayem and Simitiere are?”
“They might already be in Switzerland. I haven’t seen them around for a few days.” Drake started the BMW and eased out onto the road behind the Mercedes. “Time for a road trip.”
“Logan calls Weisbaum, von Bayem, and Simitiere the Triumvirate, but it seems to me that Weisbaum is in charge of everything.”
“The Triumvirate is just the front for the leader of the Order.”
“The front? You mean there’s someone else who’s in control?”
“They call him Capo. It loosely means leader or chief.”
“No other name?” she asked.
“Not that I’ve heard.”
“Wonder who he is?”
“Hopefully they’re leading us to him.”
Zoe thought they’d lost the car more than once, but Drake would turn a couple of corners and they’d be just a few cars behind them again. When they reached the highway, he dropped back and let more cars fill the space between them.
“You might as well try to get some sleep,” Drake said.
“I don’t know that I could.”
“Try. I’ll want you to drive in a few hours so I can take a snooze.”
“Okay.” Zoe put her seat back, pulled a lap blanket over her, and tried to relax. She really didn’t think she’d be able to sleep, but the lack of rest over the past couple of days had taken its toll. The motion of the carlulled her into a much-needed sleep. She woke two hours later when Drake pulled off the highway to get gas.
“Where are they?” she asked.
“Up ahead on the road. Don’t worry, we won’t lose them. We’ll be back on their tail before they can reach the next exit.” Drake walked inside to purchase steaming cups of coffee and pay for the gas, while Zoe used the ladies’ room.
When she came out, he handed her the coffee and headed for the men’s room. She added a package of cookies, some cheese, and crackers to their purchases.
“Good idea,” Drake said.
“Do you want me to drive for a while?”
“Nope. I’m fine.”
Drake pulled onto the road, gunned the car, and within minutes they saw the taillights of the Mercedes ahead. It was getting dark when they stopped at the Swiss border to pay the toll. They continued on, driving around Lugano. Just past that city, the Mercedes’s turn signal flashed. Drake slowed down, letting the distance between them increase. He followed them onto the side road.
“You turned the lights off,” Zoe said.
“There’s not enough traffic on this road. I don’t want them to know anyone is following them.”
“Good idea.” Zoe had a sinking feeling that she was in way over her head. She glanced at Drake. Heseemed relaxed and unconcerned. That was a relief. At least she wasn’t in this alone anymore. Up ahead, the Mercedes’s turn signal flashed again. Drake pulled off the road and they watched the other car turn onto an even smaller road. After the car had disappeared, he eased forward until they could see where the car had turned.
“Well, that was the easy part,” Drake said.
Zoe looked at the chain-link gate across the driveway. It appeared to be operated by a keypad mounted at the side of the drive. From the gate, an eight-foot-tall chain-link fence, topped with razor wire, stretched as far as she could see in the dark. The driveway wound up a slight hill to a massive, modern building.
“Getting past the fence isn’t a problem, but I’m betting there’s a lot of security in that building.” She leaned forward and squinted at it. “Geez, it’s huge. What do you think they’re doing in there?”
“God knows. But I’m guessing it’s nothing good.” Drake turned the car around and headed back along the road. “Tomorrow, we’ll recon the place.”
Zoe gaped at him. How the hell were they going to recon that place?
January 17, Outside Bern, Switzerland
“A plane?”
“How else can we get a look at that place?” Drake asked.
“How much can we see from a plane? Not enough to—” Zoe turned at the knock at the door. “You expecting someone?”
“Nigel Blackburn. Let him in.” Drake walked toward his bedroom in the suite. Zoe watched long enough to see the towel fall from his hips just before his door closed. She let her breath out and opened the front door. Her first thought was that Nigel looked like a butler.
“Zoe Alexander?” His accent was unmistakably British, which only added to the butler impression. “Nigel Blackburn.”
She stood back while Nigel effortlessly lifted a large duffle bag and carried it into the room. He placed the bag on the sofa, unzipped it, and started removing the contents. Individual black canvas cases of varying sizes, which he spread out on the sofa, chair, and credenza.
“What’s all this?”
“Tricks of the trade.” Drake walked over to Nigel and shook his hand. “Good to see you again. Hope you brought me something good.”
“Don’t I always?”
“I take it you two know each other?” Zoe asked.
Drake looked up and grinned. “We’ve done business a time or two.”
Nigel shook his head and smiled. “My apologies. I assumed Drake would have told you. I’m in Tech Ops with MI-5.”
“I see. You’re his Robyn.”
“Robyn?”
“Oh, sorry. Robyn is the Tech Ops person I work with.”
“Yes, well.” Nigel unzipped one of the black canvas cases. “Since she—I assume it’s a she—since she isn’t here, I will have to suffice.”
“What’s that?” Zoe pointed to the object Nigel held.
“A camera. A very special camera, actually. With a special lens.” He set it down and opened another case. “Electronic decoder.” He handed the unit to Zoe. “Oberwerk long-range binoculars.” He placed them on the chair.
“Man, this stuff would have made a lot of my jobs easier.”
“So, you don’t use any equipment, Zoe?” Drake asked. He picked up her fanny pack and unzipped it. “Let’s see. Wire cutters, penlight.” He set them aside. “Ah, lock picks. Those are handy. And latex gloves.”
“It’s important not to leave any prints behind,” Zoe said.
“I know how good you are with a combination lock, but what about electronic locks?”
“Wire cutters.” Zoe pointed to the cutters in Drake’s hand.
Drake shrugged and dropped the cutters back into her fanny pack. “And you knew every system well enough to know exactly how to disable it?”
Zoe laughed. “When other teenagers were studying algebra, geography, and English, I was studying security systems.”
“I assume you were en excellent student,” Nigel said.
Zoe shrugged. “I got by.”
“When will the plane be ready?” Drake asked.
“It’s waiting for you. Would you like me to come along?” Nigel asked.
“Not necessary.” Drake grinned. “But thanks for the offer.” He packed most of the equipment back into the duffle bag. “Let’s go.”
Drake hoisted the duffle over his shoulder. Zoe fastened her meager fanny pack around her waist and followed the men from the room. Nigel drove them to the landing strip, introduced them to the pilot, and said good-bye.
After her stomach settled down, Zoe enjoyed thelush scenery of the Swiss mountainside. She watched Drake open a case and pull out the camera Nigel had provided. He attached an enormous lens to the camera, then handed her a pair of binoculars and pulled out another pair for himself. Minutes later, the plane dropped down, causing her stomach to crawl into her throat.
“We’ll be over the facility in two minutes,” the pilot informed them. The plane continued to lose altitude, then evened out.
Zoe could see the building clearly now. Nestled into the side of the mountain, it was almost invisible. But the razor wire on the fence surrounding it glinted in the sunlight. She was surprised at the amount of land enclosed in the fence. The building sat squarely in the middle. There were no towns, villages, or even random houses anywhere close to it. A single lane snaked from the main road up to the building. The surrounding land was heavily forested.
“Did Ethan have any information when you called him?” Zoe asked as Drake focused his binoculars.
“The building appears to be owned by a private corporation. It’s called the Institute for Research.”
“That’s ambiguous enough to be anything.” She put the binoculars to her eyes and adjusted the focus. Drake put his binoculars down and hefted the camera with the huge lens, clicking off shots as the plane approached.
“What if they see us?” she asked.
“Not a problem,” the pilot informed her. “The call letters on the plane are registered to a tour company. They’ll assume we’re touring the Swiss countryside. And that’s if they even notice us. If you want to go in really close, I can cut the engines and we can coast in.”
“Maybe in a while,” Drake said.
Maybe never, Zoe thought. She scanned the building with her binoculars, trying to steady them against the movement of the plane. The building was rectangular, looking to be from one to three stories high. Parts of the roof were slanted, and a skylight sat close to one edge.
“There.” Zoe pointed. “A skylight.”
“Yeah, I see it.”
“I’ll bet that’s their Achilles’ heel.”
“A skylight?” he asked.
“People will invest a fortune in perimeter security. Fences, electronic alarms on the doors and windows. They forget about skylights.”
“They forget about skylights?”
“Weird, but true.” Zoe focused on the skylight as the pilot made another pass over the building. “I did a job about eight years ago. Place had the security of Fort Knox. Everywhere but on the skylight over the kitchen.”
“Yeah? What’d you get?
“Two mil in gems, eight hundred K in bearer bonds, and an original Botticelli.” Zoe grinned at Drake. “In the original frame.”