23

 

 

“Where are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not in the mood to play games.” Gary’s gaze swung around the mall’s atrium. “Where are you so that we can get this over with?”

“I’m close enough that I can see you and how, if you’re not careful, you’re the one who will be arrested, not me.”

Gary turned in a full circle. That late Tuesday afternoon, several people crowded one of Raleigh’s largest malls. More began filling the massive hall as people got off from work. He picked out a gaggle of college girls strolling with shopping bags on their arms, then some businessmen in their suits and ties as well as other men wearing more casual clothing.

All of them seemed to have cell phones to their ears.

Gary swore under his breath. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”

“Go to Macy’s. Buy four rugby shirts there. One red and white. One navy and gold. One navy and white. One dark green and gold. All in a large.”

“I’m not your personal shopper.”

“I’m not saying you are. Request a paper bag and put the package all the way at the bottom. Then go to the food court and buy a meal. I’ll find you.”

“How long should I wait?”

Silence.

Gary shoved the phone deep into the inner pocket of his leather jacket. For a moment, he stood there as if in total shock at the mess he’d created. He once more peered around the mall.

No one cared about him.

Whatever.

Before he lost his courage, he began implementing Makmoud’s plan by heading to Macy’s. He found the rugby shirts easily enough, even in the colors and size his handler had requested.

When he presented his purchase to the clerk, she smiled. “Will plastic be okay?”

“Um, do you have paper? I like to be green, you know.” He offered a sick one of his own.

“Of course. I understand.” She finished his purchase and handed him the large paper shopping bag.

Gary took it. He forced himself to maintain a purposeful walk rather than the run he wanted. A ride up the escalator took him toward the food court.

People milled around him, oblivious to the turncoat in their midst. He could stop this now, could use his work phone to call his buddies in DC and tell them he had a pretty high-ranking Quds agent in the mall and to bring all of the firepower they had to bear upon him.

He couldn’t.

Not when Makmoud’s operative stalked his family. He had no doubt as to what would happen if he disobeyed.

As if to scold him for even having such a thought, the buzzing in his head returned.

Gary swallowed hard and slipped into one of the bathrooms off the atrium. Inside, he closeted himself in the handicapped stall and slid the manila envelope containing the files he’d surreptitiously printed the day before from his leather jacket. His hands shook as he pulled out the stack.

Victor stared sightlessly at him from the government ID photo.

I’m sorry, bro. Really, I am. But Mary and the kids are depending on me to deliver this.

Gary braced his hands against the tile and hung his head. His chest heaved. He forced himself to take deep, even breaths. Before he lost his courage, he re-secured the sheets and shoved the package into the bottom of the bag.

Gary returned to the throng, which seemed to have grown in the five or so minutes he’d been gone. After buying a meal and finding a seat, he set the bag by his chair and sampled a taco. His stomach almost rebelled at the greasy meat hitting it. Not tonight. Please, not tonight.

Where was Makmoud?

Of course, he wouldn’t see him in the chaos of mothers with children, teenagers together for a night of hanging out, and families meeting up after a long day. The man had been clever to use this crowd as cover.

Someone sat down beside him, a college kid from what he could tell, all the way from the baggy plaid flannel shirt to mess of long blond hair. He too had a couple of tacos and some of those cinnamon thingies. He crunched loudly on the sweet treats, and even over that noise and the hum of the mall, Gary heard the heavy metal through the earbuds he wore.

The buzzing increased. Gary shoved his tray aside and gripped his head in his hands. He stared at the phone in the vain hope that people would think he focused on something on the Internet. A byproduct of the buzzing, the headache pulsed in time with his heart. Already, it gathered in intensity.

I want this to end. That’s all. To end.

Finally, after close to half an hour of sitting there, the nausea increased to the point where he needed to leave. Gary dialed Makmoud’s number.

Nothing. Not even voicemail.

He rose, snatching up the shopping bag. To heck with this. He was done with Makmoud and his shenanigans. All he wanted to do was to get back to the hotel so he could throw up in private.

When he got to his room, he tossed the bag onto the bed, then popped some pain meds for the headache. After a few minutes of lying curled up in a ball with his eyes tightly shut, the nausea receded enough that he could sit up and check his phone. He didn’t have any messages from Makmoud threatening him with harm to his family.

Gary tugged the shopping bag to himself. At least he’d gained some decent shirts, ones he knew he’d wear when the weather turned cool again. He dumped them out, fully prepared to remove the price tags.

An envelope fell out, this one smaller than the one he’d prepared.

His fingers shook as he undid the clasp.

He pulled a note from the package.

You did well, my friend. One last assignment until further notice. Tomorrow when you arrive in Nashville, you are to call the Low Country CrimeStoppers in the Charleston metro area and tell them that you know about a safe house in North Charleston at the information below. Do so anonymously, of course. If you refuse? Remember that you have a very lovely wife. And your children? Iman will have no problem taking care of them.

Gary’s eyes widened. Makmoud had even been generous enough to include more pictures, this time of Mary dining out with her parents, of the kids as they greeted his folks at the door.

The man had been within feet of him and made the switch without his realizing it.

Some agent he’d been.

At least his call tomorrow would be the last of it.

The buzzing receded to silence as if to praise him for a job well done. Like some satisfied mythical dragon, the headache began returning to its lair.

Gary swallowed hard. He’d succeeded, but it would cost Vic and his team their lives.

He found his cell phone on the bed and punched in a number.

When the woman answered, relief made him sag to the mattress. “Mary, hey. It’s me. The case wrapped sooner than I expected. I’m headed your way and will be in Nashville by four or so tomorrow.”