“Your wife’s a good observer,” Cameron said as they walked side by side through the corridor toward the basement after the other floors had been checked.
“Keep quiet.” Ethan had the MP5 ready to shoot, safety off. He listened to surrounding sounds, turned at the next corner to watch left and right, avoiding any noise. The doors were closed. He signaled Cameron to go right and try the knobs while he would go left. He found the first door locked and went on. Cameron nodded and moved on slowly, fully concentrated. Ethan saw two bulbs out of order at the next corner. Instinct told him to watch out for any movement in the shadows. He pointed with his chin, and Cameron understood. They continued checking the doors, aware that someone might be observing them, waiting for them to get closer. He turned the next knob, and the door swung inward. He let go, pushed, and halted. Cameron was at his side, indicating he would go first. Ethan would’ve bet on that gesture and signaled he would cover him.
Cameron crouched and swiveled around the doorframe to shoot at anything moving. The room was dark, musty, and contained little beyond three old chairs as far as he could see. The rest lay in darkness. Upon Ethan’s approval Cameron switched on the ceilings lights. Hard neon light blindsided them for a moment. Two bullets exploded beside Ethan, ripping concrete off the wall. He slipped into the room, ears ringing.
“Down the corridor! He’s at the corner where the light’s missing!”
“Roger that!” Cameron peered around the corner and jerked back when another shot hit the wall.
“Diplomatic Service!” Ethan shouted. “Stop shooting or we’ll return fire!” He made the same approach as Cameron had before and ducked deep to escape the man’s shots.
Cameron fired around the corner of the room. The noise of the MP5 was deafening. In the continuous fire Ethan and Cameron moved forward, trying to spot the shooter. “Right side!” Cameron shouted, aiming at the muzzle that showed. The edge of the wall shattered and debris rained on the floor. Ethan was heading faster to the corner. The muzzle vanished, and both bodyguards rounded the corner, Cameron standing, Ethan skidding to the opposite side on his knees. Ethan looked down the barely illuminated corridor to see a man running. He was of medium height, slightly overweight and wearing a dark blue suit and shoes with slippery soles that clattered on the hard floor.
“Stop! Or I’ll shoot!” When the escapee ran on Cameron fired two rounds to hit his legs. The shooter cried out and fell prone.
“Stay down!” Ethan shouted. They moved closer, MPs still at the ready, glancing over their shoulders to not be ambushed. “We’re with the Diplomatic Service! Don’t move! Drop the weapon, and show me your hands!”
The man whimpered as he tried ineffectively to get away. The bullets had hit his left thigh and calf. He was bleeding heavily, and a puddle was forming on the gray concrete floor. He lifted his head and stared down the corridor while the black 9mm pistol was still in his right hand, finger at the trigger.
“Drop the weapon!” Ethan ordered again when suddenly the man made an effort to turn on his back and fired.
Cameron and Ethan pulled their trigger at the same time, hitting the shooter in his arm and chest. His bullets went right beside Ethan into the wall. The ricochets scorched his neck, and more concrete fragments rained down on him. He squinted, evading in Cameron’s direction. Both bodyguards moved forward, still on alert, but realizing the man was dead.
“Weller?” Ethan asked, hardly understanding his words.
“Yes.” Cameron lowered his weapon and took a deep breath. “Why did he shoot at us? We identified ourselves! He could’ve given up, damn it!”
“Why did you shoot to kill?” Ethan searched the body and found a smart phone and Weller’s ID card for the building and the US Embassy.
“Wouldn’t take the risk of him killing us.”
“Doesn’t look like he was prepared for an escape.” Squatting beside Weller Ethan exhaled. “Where did he get the weapon? He wasn’t with the security staff.”
“Maybe whoever’s behind this action provided it.” Cameron reported to Walter and ordered security personnel to the basement. “Or he worked with them willingly and now that he was spotted he didn’t want to stand trial.”
Ethan heard Walter’s reply via intercom. “Good work. Make sure no others are around.”
“Roger that.” Ethan looked up to Cameron. His voice was low. “Let’s search the rest of the basement. Don’t wanna miss any hint at what he was doing down here.” He put the smart phone in his jacket pocket and stood.
From down the corridor a faint sound caught his attention. He signaled Cameron he’d heard something, and the other bodyguard followed him, changing to the left side, MP5 up again.
* * * *
“What do you mean you had them, but they’re gone again?” Lucio Morales shook his head and wiped his brow, not knowing if he got the information right.
“They escaped.” Alano’s voice was full of fear and regret.
The drug lord sat down and signaled one of his men to pour him a drink. He emptied the half-filled glass in one great gulp. Still, his heart was racing. “You’re telling me that your men had the couple tied up, left the building and when you came back they were gone, say, half an hour later?”
“That’s right. You must understand they only learned when they phoned me that they had the ones you wanted. It was... accidental, you know? But one of them had a knife and—”
“One had a knife?” Lucio spat the words. “You’re telling me no one searched them for weapons?”
“Yes, I know what it sounds like, but Ramirez and the others thought they were tourists. Harmless people. They had them and thought they couldn’t do anything, tied up and all and then—”
“I know. I got it the first time.” Lucio emptied the second drink his man provided, but still his nerves vibrated like guitar strings. He had promised to have the package ready. He had demanded half of Cisco’s territory and expected the Colombian’s answer any minute. His hands shook. “Upon your call I made the deal. You have to catch them again, no matter how.”
“But—we don’t know where they are!”
“They’re staying at the Marriott Hotel.” And when Alano didn’t answer he added with undisguised impatience, “You just have to cross-post people in the area. They have to leave the hotel at some time, and one of you’ll spot them. Then you’ll overwhelm them and bring them to our safe house north of town.”
“Safe house. Okay. Fine. What if they don’t show up?”
Lucio hated Alano’s doubt. He needed men to fulfill their duties, not question his decisions. He regretted he was too far away to smack his head and take over control. “They have to! Watch the entrance, the underground garage, and the lobby. Dress up and mix with the people at the bar or at the restaurant. Make sure you’ve got the area covered.”
Alano swallowed audibly. “All right. But—what if they split up? If the woman appears at the restaurant and he’s at the bar? How shall we know?”
“I just said I want them both. I don’t care if you catch them as a couple or tie them up in Christmas wrapping one by one, okay? Just bring them to the safe house!”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Alano’s miffed tone made Lucio furious. “No! You go there, take as many men as you need, and fulfill the job! If you don’t do that by tomorrow evening I’ll have your head!” He pressed the button to disconnect and threw the cell phone across the room.
* * * *
The small sounds repeated, quiet voices mixed in. Ethan’s heartbeat sped up once again. He renewed the grip on his weapon and nodded toward Cameron, who looked determined enough to stand up against an army of terrorists. Ethan had recommended the former staff sergeant’s probation, but realized he was still quick-tempered and rash in his decisions. He was a man fighting for the team, ready to give his life if need be, but also someone to clear a situation by accepting collateral damage. Ethan didn’t feel good realizing that Cameron had shot Weller in the chest. They were trained to disarm and eliminate threats. In this case, Ethan felt it would’ve been enough to wound the embassy employee to get information they badly needed. With Weller dead, Ethan had no entre into what he was doing and what had made him shoot at the bodyguards without warning in spite of their identification.
Ethan heard boots shuffle over the dusty ground and quickened his steps. With Cameron on the other side of the corridor they rounded the next corner and saw four people moving away from them in the dim light.
“Stop! Diplomatic Service! Turn around and show me your hands!”
Standing beneath a light a stout man in dark blue uniform faced them, shielding a woman and two children. He carried a weapon and raised it to aim. “Stay away from us!”
“Drop the weapon or I’ll shoot!” Cameron shouted, standing his ground, weapon at his shoulder.
Ethan recognized the bearded face and quickly signaled Cameron to lower the MP. “Wait! I know this man!” He obeyed without delay. When Cameron nodded Ethan turned back to the strange group and changed to Spanish. “I’m Ethan Mahoney. I’m with the staff of the Secretary of State. We’ve met. You’re Alonso Mogasta, right?” He made a step forward, eyes on Mogasta’s face. The pistol was still leveled, and he was not sure the guard understood his words. He looked so frightened he might prefer pulling the trigger over risking the woman and the children being shot. Ethan made another step, and the gun went up a notch. “We want to help you! We’re not here to harm you!”
“Go away!”
“Whatever you say, buddy,” Cameron said quietly half a step behind him, “he’s not getting the message.”
Ethan pushed his MP to his side and stretched his hands out as he went through the corridor carefully. The woman and the children were slowly moving backward, with the security chief as their shield. “Señor Mogasta, we talked about the security measures of this building. Do you remember me? I’m sure I annoyed you with my detailed questions about the number and equipment of the guards you preside over.”
The woman said something, but he pushed her on behind him, telling her to move to the end of the corridor quickly. Ethan couldn’t let them escape and lose his second chance of getting information about Nathaniel Weller’s doings.
Mogasta walked backward, never letting Ethan out of sight. “Where’s Nate?”
“He shot at us,” Ethan explained, feeling initiative slip away. “We had to defend ourselves.” He took another step, and Mogasta lifted the pistol to aim for Ethan’s head. The woman behind him cried out and quickly stifled it.
“Stop right there! You killed him, didn’t you? I knew you would!”
“He opened fire. I assure you we tried not to kill him.” Ethan raised his hands again, feeling uneasy. This was taking too long. He felt Cameron getting restless behind him. Mogasta had a look of fear and fatalism, like a man knowing he’d follow his friend soon. Ethan’s deep voice carried. “We had no choice. He was firing at us though we told him who we are!”
“Liars!” Mogasta glanced over his shoulder, making sure he had the family covered. “Those men came to Nate, telling him he had no choice but to do what they wanted! And now you come and shoot him though he did nothing wrong! Who do you think you are? Police and executioner in one person?”
“He’s almost at the corner,” Cameron whispered. “If they turn it we’ll lose them. There’s an exit ten yards away.”
“I don’t want to shoot while the children are behind him.”
“I’ll take him out clear.”
“Don’t want that either.” Ethan quickened his steps without blocking Cameron’s line of fire. He heard him move behind him. “Señor Mogasta, please, listen to me! We need to know who blackmailed Nate! If you take his family out of the building, we can’t protect them! And you can’t protect them! There was a reason behind Weller asking you to help him out, right? He knew his family would be safe with you. Down here.” He swallowed. It was a shot in the dark, gut feeling, and a pint of bravery. He had no intention at letting Mogasta escape. Yet the thought of shooting the man in front of Weller’s wife and kids was unbearable. “Please, señor, wait!”
Mogasta frowned but halted, gun still aimed. “Show me your ID!”
Ethan stopped to pull out his badge, hoping for the man to finally recognize him. “See? I showed you this when we met. Please, lower your weapon, and let’s talk about what happened.”
The chief of security hesitated. The woman behind him said something, pulling the children close to her skirt. Her look was full of fright, and yet it was obviously her decision to trust the bodyguards. Mogasta took a deep breath and then, slowly, lowered the pistol. “I won’t give this up, you hear me? If you’re not what you claim to be, I promise, I’ll shoot you!”
Ethan exhaled, put away his badge, and signaled Cameron to stow his MP. “Yes, señor, I understand. Let’s go where we can talk.”
* * * *
“Weller’s dead.” Ethan sat, wiping his brow, realizing he was stinking of sweat. The harsh neon light gave him a headache. The moment after the threat was over he had been high on adrenaline, knowing exactly which questions to ask and how to react to the man’s distrust and the woman’s fear. Now he felt as if strength was failing him. He wished to be with his wife, return to the hotel, and have a long shower. Walter’s face opposite the table was stern, concentrated on his report. Ethan got a grip and put the sides of his hands on the smooth table top. He had scribbled notes on a pad and looked down to read. “Security Chief Alonso Mogasta testified that Nathaniel Weller had been probably blackmailed by some Peruvian gangsters to deliver inside information about the conference. When he rejected the demand, they threatened to kill his family. So Weller talked with Mogasta, whom he had known for three years, and they hid his wife and children in the basement, a clever maneuver to have them under the tightest security possible during the conference. Still he was nervous that he and his family could be spotted. He had to work to not raise suspicions of another kind, as Mogasta told us.” Ethan lifted his head, looking around the table and finally at Walter. “His wife claims Weller got paranoid and saw enemies everywhere. Obviously the gangsters were very insistent and threatened to get to him anywhere. So he got a pistol from a colleague at the embassy and enough ammo to defend his family, she said. That explains why he opened fire at us in spite of our identification.”
“The deadly shot was unavoidable?”
Ethan had thought about Cameron’s action for the longest time. “Though already on the ground, Weller turned and fired at us. We had to take him out.”
“Very well.” Walter leaned back and emptied a glass of water. “What else do we know about the people blackmailing Weller? What did they want him to do?”
“Here the information is sparse. Mogasta believes they are drug dealers, smugglers—that sort of ruthless gangsters, who, in general, rule the northwest of Peru.”
“Any reason why drug dealers would be interested in a security conference? Or in whom in detail?”
“None. Even the identification as drug dealers or whatever is mere speculation, based on the way Weller described them to his friend. I also asked Mogasta why the SecState should be in the gangsters’ focus. Mogasta said that the name Nolan or any other head of state had never been uttered. Weller had only said that the demand had sounded odd.” Ethan wet his lips and reached for the decanter with water and a glass. He was suddenly so thirsty his tongue felt like it was glued to his gums. “Weller tried to evade them, but they didn’t give up. Mogasta mentioned Nate’s brother was in danger, but finding him could take time. Weller’s cell phone is with the technicians by now. They’re checking incoming calls and messages.”
“Very well.” Walter checked his watch. “SecState will be out of the last meeting in about twenty minutes.” He stood. “Okay, wrap up and get ready. Where’s the family now?”
“With the police. They’re being interrogated as well as Mogasta. Maybe he remembers something more. Vancho is staying in touch with them. We’ll get the information, if there is any.” Ethan put away the pad and left the table.
“Have the wound checked, Ethan,” Walter said to his back.
“Sir?”
“Your neck’s bleeding. Didn’t you notice?”
“No, sir.” Ethan’s lips curled to a short, surprised smile. “Must’ve happened in the corridor somewhere.”
“Still. Have it checked.”
“Sure.”
Walter appeared to be about to add something and then didn’t. They left the room to take up positions again and wait for Nolan, grumpy from too many conversations in a row.
* * * *
“Waiting’s over,” Sami said solemnly, his voice smooth as ever. “You can proceed with your preparations. They’ll take route B.”
“How did you get it?” Navid was excited and already grabbing for the MP on the table. “I already thought—”
“I cut off his wife’s finger. It was quite a show. I told him I could go on like this if he didn’t give me what I want. So he did. I’ll see you later at our meeting point.”
Sami hung up, and Navid turned to the expectant faces of the other men in the small room that stank of sweat and weapons’ oil. “We’ve got the information! Route B! Let’s move!” He was relieved to rouse the horde from its place. The men were eager to get in motion. Laughter and sound bites followed, speaking of victory and how they’d shock the Americans. Within minutes they had everything packed and ready and were heading toward the waiting cars. One man was already on his way to a truck parked two miles away under a bridge to supervise the attack. Navid smoothed back his hair, shouldered his large bag and set fire to the small house they had used as a refuge over the last few days. Even if a police squad found this hideout, no one would learn anything from the debris.
Navid ordered the drivers to be careful and not stand out in traffic. They had trained over every route several times and knew what to do. Sami would be proud when he received the message of their success. Though in doubt previously, Navid realized their plan was flawless and would work. He imagined the headlines of tomorrow’s newspapers and smiled blissfully. After tonight no one would dare meet with the Secretary of State again, and no one would take Iran away from its way to purity.
* * * *
Walter rode shotgun and signaled Ryan to drive out of the garage as soon as the secretary was seated. Jazmin and Lennis rode with him, the latter reporting the latest news he had collected from the press room. Nolan didn’t appear to be listening, but enjoyed a drink on the rocks. The ice cubes were tinkling in the glass while he asked Lennis to hold his breath and talk with Jazmin. Her pleasant voice was the background to Walter’s thoughts.
The limousine exited behind the two motorcycles and the first limousine with Ethan riding shotgun. Since the moment Walter had seen the untreated wound on the bodyguard’s neck, he wondered if he had driven Ethan too far. Walter had demanded Mogasta be interrogated on the spot, since the information concerning Nolan couldn’t wait if assassins were out for the kill. Ethan and Cameron had done their job, and the report had brought forth enough to be assured that the SecState was in no immediate danger.
Walter wanted Ethan to be concentrated, to act on the spot, and make the right decisions. Since Nolan had proposed promoting Ethan after Walter’s retirement, he had pushed the young man hard. In the rear mirror he caught Jazmin’s look and felt guilty. She hadn’t said a word about her husband’s injury. She didn’t have to. The accusation lay in that one hard glance she gave him, and Walter had to break eye contact. All of his ambition to protect the SecState professionally crumbled when he weighed the danger he sent the men into. Ethan should’ve taken a rest. Instead he had pushed him beyond feeling of pain without a decent reason.
The motorcycles took a left turn onto the main street, and the three limousines followed swiftly. They didn’t have to stop at red traffic lights and made good progress in spite of the early evening congestion. They overtook a gasoline truck and two oversized vehicles with trunks. Like Ryan, Walter concentrated on the mirrors, taking in every car approaching them from behind and looking into the ones they passed. Some people turned their heads, some were playing with their cell phones or talked with other passengers. Two young women in an old green VW moved to the rhythm of the music playing on the radio loud enough to drown out the noise around.
Walter noticed one white dented SUV and a dark red BMW luxury car swerving in from the right lane behind the motorcycles driving last. They stayed behind them in constant distance. He kept them in view, anticipating they would overtake and close in.
“Turn left next corner!” Ethan ordered via radio. “No braking!”
Walter had to grab the door handle. “Hold tight!” he shouted to the passengers when Ryan steered the large limousine around the center island into the next street. Honking followed, and the convoy forced at least five cars to brake to avoid collision. Two cars crashed into each other in the attempt to stay out of the way. “Ethan, what’s wrong?”
“Cement truck came in from the right. Was about to block the street.”
Walter craned his neck. The red and white cement truck had moved forward fitfully as if he couldn’t brake but couldn’t speed up, either. Dark gray smoke rose from the exhaust pipe, and the driver’s cab bumped up and down. A small car collided with the front wheel, another tried to evade and crashed into the right bumper of the white SUV. The traffic behind them came to a full stop. The cars Walter had noticed were caught in between, but in contrast to other drivers, they didn’t roll down the windows to complain about the idiot in the truck.
“Return to planned route next corner,” Ethan said via radio, voice even. “Hit the gas. We need to reach a distance immediately.”
“What’s wrong?” Secretary Nolan asked between heartfelt curses. “Are we under attack?”
“No, sir. We just avoided a collision.” Walter took a deep breath before he reported the incident to the police and ordered officers to proceed with caution toward the intersection. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it had been a planned action to block the convoy. He felt better now that they were almost at the hotel.