49
By the fourth ring I was convinced Knuckles was going to blow me off, making me wonder if his team was really onto something. That would be extremely odd, since I was sure Jennifer and I were tearing up the true thread, which had come through Ireland, not Morocco. There was no way some Somali ferry receipt was going to lead to the hostages.
He answered, saying, “Still on your own, huh?”
I laughed and said, “No. I’ve replaced your sorry ass. I pulled in Nung.”
“Nung? From Thailand? Seriously?”
“Yeah. I met him here in Paris last night. I needed someone to help out, and Kurt seems to believe you simpletons know more about this situation than I do. Which we both know is a mistake.”
“Not this time, Pike.” He gave me the lowdown on the Snapchat video, and for the first time I began to wonder if I was chasing phantoms. But I couldn’t be. I had the pendant. And the pendant had been found because of the Serbs.
He continued, “The housing complex is in some area known for African immigrants. A bad-guy land even on good days. The French have had a lot of riots and protests there. It fits perfectly with what we know about the Somalis’ travel history. They’re here, and so are the hostages.”
“You sure that video is real?”
“I am. You sure that pendant is real?”
“Okay, okay. You just keep your head down. Let GIGN do the work. Something’s not right about this whole thing. Hopefully it’s me, but it might be you.”
“No worries. These guys are pretty switched on. What the hell are you and Koko doing, anyway? You got Nung robbing a jewelry store or something? Kurt said you had the Taskforce translate some goofy shit.”
The cards from our penthouse photos had ended up being in Serbo-Croatian, and they’d detailed a jewelry heist. Apparently, the Serbs belonged to some ring called the Pink Panthers, and they were planning a hit in Paris. I’d spent the train ride from Brussels doing a little research, and it turned out they were some seriously badass jewel thieves.
Mostly ex-military from the bad-old days in Bosnia, they’d cut their teeth smuggling arms during the Serbian embargo, then had moved on to bigger and better things. I’d stumbled upon a YouTube video of a hit in Dubai where they’d literally driven two Audis into an indoor mall, straight through the glass wall of a high-end jewelry store. They’d cleaned the place out, then simply driven out of the mall, never to be seen again.
Their target in Paris was the Bulgari jewelry store just off the famed strip of Parisian shopping known as the Champs-élysées. I didn’t really care about the robbery, though.
I said, “Yeah, we’re conducting a stakeout, waiting on the police to snap these assholes up. The getaway driver is an Irishman named Braden. He was on the surveillance tape I got in Cambridge, and apparently, he’s going to transport whatever they take, letting the Serbs cross the border afterward without any issues. My role ends when he gets snagged.”
I heard nothing for a minute, then, “Uh . . . You talked to Kurt lately?”
“Last night, before we came down. I gave him a complete dump. Why?”
“Before the Snapchat came in?”
“I guess so. Why do I get the feeling you know more than me? What’s up?”
“You’re not getting any police. They’re not going to show.”
“Why? Kurt told me he’d get a cutout from the FBI to link up with the gendarmerie. They’re supposed to be all over this place. The Pink Panthers are a big deal, and a successful robbery here would be pretty embarrassing. They won’t miss it.”
“Well, that would be true. If we told them. We didn’t.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“The hostages take priority. The president made the call not to tell them about your lead. He didn’t want to split efforts. He couldn’t care less about a jewel heist, and he was afraid the GIGN would get tasked with both targets. The police capability would be diluted. He didn’t want that. He wants them completely focused on the hostages. On me.”
What the hell? I felt the anger rise and saw Jennifer give me a question with her eyes. “And he wasn’t going to tell me that? He was going to let me sit out here and watch it go down? Christ. I don’t even have any weapons with me.”
“Pike, things have been a little hectic here. They spent all night getting the ball rolling on my operation. Kurt’s got to put national security ahead of his niece. Don’t blame him. He might be calling any minute.”
I said, “I gotta go.”
“Pike, don’t do something you’ll regret.”
“I’m not the one who’s going to regret that decision.”
* * *
Kurt introduced Creed, then took a seat in the back of the Situation Room, wondering how he was going to get grilled about Breedlove with all the people floating around the table who were uncleared for Taskforce operations. As far as they knew, he worked in the NSC with Creed. His cell vibrated, and he saw it was Pike, immediately realizing he hadn’t told him the new reality of no French help. Alexander Palmer started talking, and he shunted the call to voice mail. He’ll figure it out. I’ll call him later.
Palmer said, “Creed, you sure about the location you found?”
“Yes, sir. No doubt.”
“The GIGN is trying to get the Wi-Fi on the phone to link up with a false router. They called it spoofing. Can they do that? Will that work to locate the phone?”
“Sir, in theory—”
President Warren held up his hand. “I need everyone to leave the room but the director of the CIA and Kurt Hale.”
The director of the FBI looked startled. He said, “Sir, they may start the operation at any time.”
“Fine. The feed in here is coming from the communications room, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then monitor it there. I need a word.”
The men about the table looked at one another, then began filing out. The door closed, the only sound an occasional burp from the speaker on the desk, background static from the FBI HRT team in Paris. President Warren shut it off.
Kerry Bostwick waited patiently. Warren waved Kurt forward to the table. When he was seated, the president said, “You guys see the paper this morning?”
Kerry said, “Yes, sir, and trust me, I had nothing to do with it. Nothing. I’m a little insulted by the question.”
Warren said, “I know you wouldn’t do anything outright, but could Clute have managed anything? As the chair of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, would he have the ability to do something like this? Without you knowing?”
Kerry scoffed. “Hell no. That’s all Hollywood fantasy. He’s a bureaucrat. He wouldn’t even know where to go to find the men for the job, and they wouldn’t do anything without getting sanction. Shit, sir, there’s not a man in the CIA who isn’t well versed on the repercussions for perceived illegal infractions. Half the time it’s that same jerk Clute hauling people in front of his committee. Trust me, there isn’t a lot of love for him in the CIA. His missing kids notwithstanding.”
“And you wouldn’t do anything as a quid pro quo for future inquiries? For the next time Congress starts a witch hunt? He’s a powerful man, and that’s a pretty good ace to hold.”
Kerry said, “Sir, I mean no disrespect, but if you truly think I would have that Machiavellian capability in my soul, then you disappoint me. Jesus, you’re talking about murder. You should know better, but since you don’t, I’ll tender my resignation right here, right fucking now.”
Warren took that in, ignoring the outburst. He turned to Kurt, all business. “I tend to believe him because he has no skin in the game. You, on the other hand, I have questions about.”
Kurt said, “Like Kerry, your questions should have been answered long ago. I had nothing to do with killing Grant Breedlove. Period.”
President Warren held his eyes for a moment, then said, “All right. This conversation never happened. I had to ask.”
Kurt said, “Sir, I’ve been thinking about it, and there’s one person we haven’t asked.”
“Who?”
“The terrorists. I think they did it. I think there’s an accomplice here in DC, and he’s tying off loose ends.”
Kerry said, “That’s crazy.”
“Really? They’ve kept this as quiet as we have and know how our hands would be tied if a story got out. I think it’s a lead. Whoever killed him is working with the people who have our hostages. What do the police know about the crime?”
“I have no idea. Not something I’m really worried about, beyond questioning you two jackals.”
“You mind if I look into it?”
“What do you mean, ‘look’?”
“Just poke around. See what I can find.”
“That depends on the next few minutes. We resolve this in Paris, then let the police handle it.”
There was a knock on the door and President Warren said, “Come in.”
The director of the FBI stuck in just his head and said, “They got the phone. They’re rolling.”