Landing in Kyiv in the early hours on Sunday, the Gulfstream had been met by an armed escort from the embassy. Zhen was taken into custody and booked into a holding area. Jordan was sent to see Lory.
Shown into his office, her first question was about the Russians. “Have they been located?”
“No. The general consensus seems to be that they’re safely behind their front lines by now. The Ukrainians are eager to put this behind them. They’ve worked fast, and the first of the crash remains are on their way by train to Krakow now.”
“They’ve completed the investigation?”
“As far as the IIC is concerned, the crash was due to a mechanical failure of the left engine.” Lory leaned back in his desk chair and smiled. “Your work here is done, Jordan. RSO Daugherty has arranged for another agent to accompany the ambassador’s wife home. He suggested you take a few days off.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“No, Agent Jordan, consider it a thank you for a job well done.”
“Sir, the Russians still have a prototype of the railgun Quinn Industries has in development. They didn’t bring it this far into Ukraine just to turn tail and run. They have a plan.”
Picking up a pencil, he bounced the eraser off the desk. “In this business, there are times you have to sit back and let things play out. This weekend, the prime minister and the ambassador are attending a summit. The minister is signing an alliance agreement that was nearly derailed by Russia’s incursion into Ukraine. Meanwhile, they continue to make headway toward a peaceful end to Russia’s take-over of the Crimean Peninsula. Bottom line, right now is not a good time to go accusing the Russians of illegal weapons trading, especially without solid evidence.”
“But we know who the manufacturer is, and we have a witness to the arms trade.”
“Do you really expect anyone to take us seriously? The only witness is a fugitive, wanted for treason.”
“I saw the second prototype, so did Davis.”
“Again, your word against the Chinese. There’s just no tangible proof.”
“What about the files we e-mailed back?”
“It’s not enough.”
She suddenly felt defensive. “We did what we had to when we destroyed the gun.”
He was quick to allay her guilt. “I know that. You know that. In reality, everybody knows that. It’s just that no one is going to take action unless we have a lot more evidence to back up the claims.”
She still had her fried phone. If Henry could pull the files, she’d have pictures. “What if I can produce photos?”
“Give it up, Jordan. At this point, we gain nothing, and we stand to lose a helluva lot if we start leveling accusations we can’t substantiate.”
“But sir, I’m telling you, the Russians—”
Mary banged open the door. Walking past them to the credenza, she picked up the remote and clicked on the TV. “You’re going to want to see this. A reporter, claiming to have been at the crash site, has just gone live with the information that Kia Zhen was not killed aboard PR Flight 91.”
“Damn, if it isn’t our guy Davis,” Lory said.
When the television picture came up, it showed a split screen with the in-studio reporter on one side and Nye Davis on the other. Stunned, Jordan watched him say he had an unidentified source who had confirmed that the man being transported by the DSS was not the fugitive wanted for espionage as suspected, but a man with a similar last name thought to be affiliated with the Triad. A surge of adrenalin hit Jordan’s system, a buzzing in her ears overpowering his voice. He’d given his word he wouldn’t say anything, not until she’d given him the green light.
When the picture cut away to another act of violence in the Middle East, Lory clicked off the TV. “Actually, he might have done us a favor. He just took the wind out of everyone else’s sails.”
Jordan stared at the blank screen. “He promised to sit on the information.”
“He lied.”
Funny, that’s what she’d said to Zhen about Eddie. The only positive spin was that Davis hadn’t filled in the details. He hadn’t given any specifics about Eddie or his alleged connections with the CIA. He’d said nothing about the hacking of a U.S. defense contractor.
Jordan suddenly felt drained. “You know,” she said, pushing up from her chair, “I think I will take a few days.”
“Good idea.” Lory got to his feet and shook her hand. “And next time”—he jerked his head toward the TV—“you might want to pick better friends.”
She didn’t bother to remind him that Davis had put his life on the line for her and to stop the Chinese. She doubted he’d care.
Mary wasn’t at her desk, but Jordan helped herself to a lab request form on her way out. She still had the pictures to follow up on. Lory may have told her to walk away, but she had a nagging suspicion that they were all missing the bigger picture. She didn’t believe the Russians had turned back. They were headed somewhere, and the clock was ticking.
Henry was in the lab when she pushed through the door and seemed genuinely glad to see her. “Whatcha got there? I thought maybe you’d left without a good-bye.”
“Not yet. I need a favor.” She pulled out the phone she’d been using when the electromagnetic pulse had misfired. “This phone was fried, but there were some pictures on the microSD card. Any chance you can pull them off? I really need an ID on the man in the photos.”
He looked skeptical. “I’ll give it a try, but I can’t promise anything.”
“What more can I ask? Any idea how long it’ll take?”
“We’re buried, but since it’s for you, I’ll fit it in. Do you have a new number?” He waggled the phone.
“It’s on the form.” She smiled and started to leave, then hesitated near the door. “Oh, and Henry?”
“Yeah?” He looked expectant, hopeful, like a puppy waiting for a treat.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anybody about the photos. Could you just give me a call when you have some answers? I’d like to keep this on the down low, just for now.”
“Not even Lory’s office?”
Especially not Lory’s office. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”