33
Alexander Palmer heard Kurt’s words and exploded. “Have you lost your fucking mind? Ireland? Who gave you authority to start operating in Ireland? You cannot execute operations without the expressed consent of the Oversight Council. What the hell are you doing?”
Kurt went instinctively to military attention, back ramrod straight and hands to his sides. He said, “Pike was not on a Taskforce mission. He was working for me, as a friend. You guys cut him free. He was helping me find my niece. Someone I consider my daughter. And yes, I gave him some help.” He turned his head and glared at Palmer. “You want to fire me for that, then do it. But you’d better be ready to bury the vice president’s son.”
Palmer stood up, the anger on his face spilling out. He said, “You sanctimonious son of a bitch, nobody gives a shit about your niece. We have bigger issues here than your personal problems. Nicholas Seacrest could be divulging secrets right this minute.”
Kurt broke his stance, advancing on Palmer with his fists balled, the violence barely contained. In a low hiss he said, “Fuck you and your bigger issues. This isn’t about intelligence, and my niece means more to me than the vice president’s son. More than all of those people.”
Palmer stood his ground, his legs shaking, the fear evident on his face. Kurt reached him and President Warren said, “Stop!”
Kurt held up, glaring at Palmer. Wanting to rip his throat out.
President Warren said, “This is getting us nowhere. Quit the childish dick contest.”
Kurt glanced at him, and the president repeated, “Quit it. Right now.”
Kurt backed down, turning away and muttering under his breath.
Palmer breathed out, then said, “Kurt, hey, those words were poorly chosen. I’m sorry. Sorry about your niece, and sorry I said what I did. But you can’t freelance like this. You know that.”
Accepting the apology in the spirit it was given, Kurt said, “Then don’t make me freelance anymore. Let’s bring it to the Council. Pike’s onto something here. Get him Taskforce assets. Get Knuckles there.”
President Warren flipped to the second page of the report and said, “But you reported that Knuckles had found a connection. The ferry trip ticket was tied to some Somalis who came from Paris. And your Taskforce penetration of French immigration says they’ve returned there.”
Kurt sighed and said, “Yes. That’s what we know, but we can’t find a couple of Somalis in the city of Paris. We’ve got nothing. Pike has a lead.”
“You mean Pike has a lead to your niece.”
“Well, yeah, but she’s tied to the VP. I don’t understand this Somalia connection, but Pike’s onto something real. It’s in Ireland, and it’s not about torturing these guys for information.”
Palmer said, “Maybe. Maybe not. We know an Islamic group has the hostages. Knuckles has now confirmed it’s Somali. Al-Shabaab. We don’t know where they are, but we now know who they are. Might be Paris, might be Mali, but they sure as shit aren’t in Ireland. That would be the last place they’d go.”
Kurt said, “Sir, I don’t buy that Islamic crap. You think a bunch of Somalis straight out of the Stone Age could do this? Shit, there’s no way they could even track someone on Okinawa, much less kidnap them. There’s something else going on here.”
President Warren said, “Because you want it to be that way? For your niece? Or because you have some evidence?”
Kurt balled his fists up again, this time in frustration, and said, “It’s the same damn thing.”
President Warren had looked at him with sympathy and said, “Kurt, I understand where you’re coming from, but I have to play the intelligence as I see it. I’ll let you freelance Pike. No word to the Council. But Knuckles is going to follow the trail where it goes.”
Now, sitting with his cup of black coffee surrounded by twentysomethings whose greatest problem was figuring out which blend to buy, he was about to go through the same pain again. With his sister.
He glanced at his watch one more time, wondering if she was even going to show. He pulled out his cell phone to call and saw her walking at a fast pace up to the door. She entered, and he waved. She ignored the line and marched right up to his table, sitting across from him.
In the harsh fluorescent light, she looked aged. As if someone had taken a picture of her two days ago, then put it through software manipulation to show how she would appear in twenty years. She looked lost.
She said, “So you have something? Tell me you have something. The police over there are still giving me the stone wall.”
He steeled himself and said, “Kathy, I have a thin lead, and I’m exploring it, but you have to understand that it might go nowhere.”
“Exploring it? What does that mean? You sound like you’re looking for oil.”
He told her what he’d found, leaving out all aspects of the vice president’s son and the Serbian connection, washing it all into a date with a ghost who he was trying to find. When he was done, she sagged into her chair and began to cry.
He reached across and rubbed her arm, saying, “Hey, it doesn’t sound like much, but it’s something. We’re going forward.”
She snapped back and said, “Bullshit! You’re doing nothing. I knew you would do nothing from that first phone call. You’re sitting here on your ass while she gets gang-raped or sold into slavery.” She broke down again and began sobbing into her hands, the patrons around them looking on in concern.
Kurt let the barbs fall and said, “Kathy, that’s not true. Yes, I’m here, but it’s only because I’ve sent someone better than me. I have a man over there. He’s looking right now.”
A bitter look on her face, she spat out, “Better than you. Sure. I get it.”
He nodded, a soothing gesture. “Yes. Better than me.”
He saw a glimmer of hope, quickly dissolved by the pain of her fear. She said, “Kylie always talked about you being some great hunter of terrorists. I knew that was bullshit, but she thought you were saving the world. I guess she was wrong.”
“No. She wasn’t wrong. She just misconstrued how I hunt. I will find her.”
The hope returned to her eyes, as much as she tried to prevent it. She said, “Who? Who do you have looking?”
He clasped her hand in both of his and said, “I can’t give you his name, but he’s the best man I have.”
She sniffled and said, “Is he good enough? Will he bring her home?”
Kurt smiled, intending to show warmth. What came out was the grin of a shark. “Trust me, he’s a predator. His target is the man who took her. And he has never failed me.”