Chapter Forty

Brin didn’t wait for instructions, crossing the street and slipping behind the house next door to Khalid’s. He would position himself in the back, to catch the kid if he tried to escape or to enter if the other two were able to establish an interrogation. Timmons gave Jarvis a concerned look.

 

“Don’t worry, he’s not setting up for a kill shot. Just keeping the kid from rabbitting.”

 

“I’ll come from the west, you from the east. Just so we don’t draw attention.” Which meant separating so it would be harder for anyone in the house to kill them both. Jarvis nodded agreement and pulled the gun to hold at his side. There were no neighbors peeking out windows, no cars interrupting the early evening, though that wouldn’t last long as the work day wound to a close and residents headed home.

 

They crossed the street near the spot Brin had disappeared into and Timmons split off and jogged thirty feet further. They were now on either side of the house, still on the sidewalk. Timmons had pulled his Sig and kept it near his side, loose in his hand. They approached the small front yard and came toward the front door at an angle. They met on either side of the door.

 

“Your asylum seekers all seem to know me. Better if he sees you first. He’ll probably think Homeland Security is just checking up on him to see if he needs anything, you know, groceries or a massage.”

 

There was no rancor in his comment and Timmons took no offense. “I know the files, but the registrants don’t know me. It may take some convincing, especially if he’s gotten word from his handlers. He’ll be skittish.”

 

Jarvis was quiet for a moment. “You know, if he’d heard the cells had been exposed, why would he be following his regular routine?”

 

Timmons gave it some thought. “Maybe they told him to be sure not to act suspiciously. But he sure was in a hurry just now. Like he’d gotten instructions or something.”

 

It seemed late to be debating. Jarivs nodded and Timmons rang the bell. “Khalid! Khalid Argami! Special Agent Timmons from Homeland Security – open up please!”

 

They listened carefully. Not a sound. Timmons knocked and the door pushed open an inch. Khalid had swung it shut but not hard enough for the latch to grab. Incautious move for a potential mass murdered. But they were grateful. Timmons pushed the door further and led with his gun. Jarvis followed him in, in a slight crouch and swinging from the Glock from side to side.

 

The front door opened into a small foyer. A closet to the right was closed. Straight ahead a small corridor lead back to what was probably the kitchen. A staircase waited ahead and to the right. The house was silent. Timmons nodded to the stairs and Jarvis agreed. Before he could step ahead of Timmons, the sound of rushing water broke the calm. It came from a door in the corridor leading to the kitchen. Both men turned toward the sound. Beyond the spot where the sound emitted there was a glimpse of movement and Brin came into sight. His gun was trained on the door in the corridor as well.

 

The door opened and Jarvis saw a mirror in the background reflecting a toilet. Khalid had something in his hands and a look of relief on his face. The time it took him to take two steps out of the bathroom was the amount of time he needed to register two men in front of him holding guns. Surprise was his first reaction, then recognition – a look Jarvis was beginning to be tiresomely familiar with. The kid had nowhere to go and before he could do something stupid, Jarvis wanted to get him under control. He took a step toward Khalid but was interrupted by a the explosion of a gun firing and the whisper of a breeze passing his ear. A bullet slammed into Khalid’s chest. A second bullet tore a chunk out of his forehead and he would never be pretty again.

 

Timmons was pointing his Sig at Khalid and shouting, “in his hands! Get what’s in his hands!” Jarvis covered the falling body of the kid with his. Khalid was dead but Jarvis treated him as though he were dangerous and intent on killing them – if he held a switch to an explosive, he might still succeed. Jarvis stood over the body and kicked with his foot. He moved the kid’s arms and legs, pushing back the trouser legs and the jacket. Nothing. In his hands was a towel and a magazine. No poison. No gun.

 

Jarvis looked back at Timmons, the source of the shots that killed Khalid. “what the hell? The kid was taking a dump. That’s why he was in a hurry.”

 

Brin passed by the tableau and gave Timmons a hard look before going up the stairs, like a hunter checking to see if the cub they’d just killed had a pissed off mama bear on the way to maul them. He went to the second floor and cleared all the rooms while Jarvis stared at Timmons.

 

“What the hell good was that?”

 

Timmons didn’t look apologetic. “I thought he was holding a weapon. Better safe than sorry.” He holstered his gun. “It doesn’t really matter. He was the last one with any of the poison. We’ll find the stuff and this thing will be wrapped up.”

 

Jarvis was irritated. “Sure, sounds good. But I would have liked to have a chat with him. Maybe see if we’re missing anything.”

 

“Yeah, me too, but it wasn’t worth the risk. Let’s see if we can find his stash.”

 

They didn’t need to bother. Brin came down the stairs carrying a metal briefcase. “The house is clear. Look like two other rooms are used by different people, both guys, kind of messy. This was in a space under a couple loose planks, under the bed in the master.” He pointed at the kid using the briefcase. “Nice shooting.” It was complimentary and derisive in equal measure.

 

Timmons holstered his gun and took the case. He pulled out his cell phone and speed-dialed. “Clear. I’ve got the material. Need one clean-up.” Before the phone was back in his pocket they heard a large engine coming up the street. The government SUV was moving quickly.

 

The three men stood near the bleeding body, ignoring it. Jarvis broke the silence.

 

“Well.”

 

No one added anything. So Jarvis continued. “Brin and I were just getting geared up. Let me get this straight: you’re saying you’re covered now? The last guy with poison just stopped breathing, you’ve busted everyone on your list, and the ones I held back are covered?” He didn’t sound as disappointed or surprised as he was. He just wanted clarification.

 

Timmons looked like a cop turning in his final report, ready to go home at the end of his shift and pick up a new case in the morning. “Yup, you’ve got it. Appreciate the help – couldn’t have done it without you.”

 

If Brin hadn’t been so disappointed he’d have found that funny. Jarvis looked at him and raised an eyebrow. He turned back to Timmons. “No clean-up, no loose ends? You’re saying you’re all good. Mission accomplished.”

 

“A lot of people are going to stay alive because of what you two did in Afghanistan. A lot more won’t be afraid. And the Taliban gets another failure. I’d say that was pretty good work. And I’m heading back to DC.” As he finished speaking, two men in suits and carrying duffel bags came in the front door. They didn’t speak, just waited for Timmons, Jarvis, and Brin to move out of the way. Timmons walked past them and out the front door. Jarvis and Brin followed and the door closed behind them.

 

The three men stood in the front yard. There didn’t seem much more to say. The SUV idled in the driveway behind Khalid’s car. Timmons shook Jarvis’ hand firmly, turned to Brin and smiled. “If you gentlemen need anything, any time, just give me a ring. And I know you don’t need me to tell you not to speak to anyone about any of this.”

 

Brin’s face filled with disdain. He held more secrets about government actions and black ops than a Tom Clancy novel. Timmons got in the rear seat of the SUV and didn’t look over as the vehicle backed out and sped off. Jarvis assumed another would come by to pick up the cleaning crew. He shrugged his shoulders to let Brin know it was just the usual shit and headed to the rental. It smelled slightly of cigar smoke and vomit as they pulled into the street and wound their way back to the I95 North to New York. They were quiet for about ten miles.

 

“Shit.” Brin drummed his fingers on the dashboard.

 

“Yup.” Ten more miles passed under the car.

 

“I don’t like him.”

 

Jarvis couldn’t stifle a grin. “Strike one, he’s a government agent. Strike two, he interrupted a good hunt you were looking forward to.” Jarvis let the Brin swing at the hanging slow ball down the middle.

 

“Strike three, he’s a dick.” Brin pulled out his gun and checked the clip. “Let me out in Hoboken.”

 

Large green signs counted off the exits on the New Jersey Turnpike. Edison was coming up. Hoboken was twenty minutes away and a ten minute subway ride to Newark Airport. “You have some business there?” It was a rhetorical question. Jarvis was pretty sure Brin had business everywhere, and a rabbit hole to disappear down in any city they passed through.

 

“There’s a pretty good ribs place there. Wanted to get a bite before getting back.” If Jarvis were a novelist he could come up with some pretty good stories about what ‘getting back’ might mean.

 

“You know, you could stay with me any time you want to take a break from the Outlaw Josey Wales. Or Grizzly Adams.” Jarvis looked over at Brin. Neither the movie nor the television reference registered. “Okay, think Neo from Matrix.” Still nothing. “Geez, you’ve got to get out more. Rambo, then?”

 

That got a nod from Brin. “Yeah, I’ll swing by some time. Meet some of your new g-man friends.”

 

Jarvis liked poking Brin. It was fun, there was no down side, and he was pretty sure his pal liked it – since there probably wasn’t anyone else in his off-the-grid world who talked about anything other than missions, conspiracies, and how much water to store in preparation for Armageddon.

 

Signs for Hoboken began to appear. Jarvis moved into the right lane as they got within a mile of the exit. Brin pointed at a quiet stretch of emergency lane a hundred yards ahead near a grove of trees – one of the last signs of nature before they reached the industrial part of central Jersey and into New York City. “Just pull over up there. I’ll be good. Save you a few bucks on tolls.”

 

Jarvis signaled and moved into the emergency lane. Gravel and a few pieces of trash kicked up into the air. He stopped at the spot closest to the trees and as near the guardrail as he could. “Hey, glad to see you up and around.”

 

Brin showed appreciation for the deeply emotional moment and Jarvis’ happiness that he was no longer in a coma by holstering the gun. He gave his friend a smile. “We’re almost even.” He pointed out the driver’s window. “Isn’t that Lady GaGa in that limo over there?”

 

Jarvis’s shock at Brin’s awareness of a hot pop star didn’t interfere with his role in the game. He turned to look out the window and kept scanning the cars for the limo as he heard the passenger door softly open and click back shut. He gave it five more seconds and said to him self, “I don’t see her. Are you sure it wasn’t Madonna?” When he turned back to the empty passenger seat, Jarvis looked out the window toward the trees and fields beyond. They were empty. He signaled and pulled forward, getting up enough speed to merge into the traffic and pass by the Hoboken exit. JFK Airport was another 40 minutes away. He’d turn in the rental and get back to LA and whatever case was waiting for him. He turned the air conditioning up to hide the stench in the rental.