The End Game

Maitland said, “Trafford isn’t about to let anyone stick their nose under his tent.”

 

 

Sherlock said, “All of us understand the tremendous pressure the CIA is under to protect the U.S. from any foreign threat, but Trafford—why doesn’t he realize it’s time for him to cough up everything he knows? I mean, lives are on the line here, and everyone knows Bayway signaled that COE is stepping up their game, that another probably larger refinery has already been targeted.”

 

“You’d think.” Maitland sighed. “Why I’m really here, Savich, is to assign you to work with Drummond and Caine, coordinate on this end, since all the push is coming from the vice president and she’s laid this in our laps. Starting now. I’ll barbecue you the best corn on the cob if you bring COE in and stop Damari. Oh, yes, I’ve cleared this with Milo in New York. He’s on board.” He rose. “Mossad believes it’s Iran and Hezbollah behind the contract on the vice president. We need to stop them.”

 

When Maitland disappeared from Savich’s office, Sherlock grinned at him, punched his arm. “For you, Big Dog, it’s obviously only a small assignment. Why, you can whip out the answers in a matter of minutes.”

 

As for Savich, he felt pleased at the huge vote of confidence and worried he couldn’t pull it together and the vice president could be shot. No, not going to happen. Who had hired Damari wasn’t his concern, Damari was. So first things first.

 

Sherlock rose. “You know what I’d like to do? Wrap my hands around Trafford’s throat and shake him until he gives up everything he knows. And you and Nicholas and Mike are supposed to uncover everything in one day?”

 

“Looks like it.” Savich laughed, picked up his cell to call Nicholas to give him the good news that he was now coordinating his investigation, whatever that really meant, in addition to his own boss, Zachery.

 

Savich’s cell blasted out Blondie’s “Call Me.” Speak of the devil. “Nicholas, I was about to call you. There’s a lot—”

 

Nicholas overrode him. “Listen, this is crucial, Savich. We think we’ve found the last knowns of COE. We have a witness who claims there was a group of four people staying in an apartment in Brooklyn. Last night, the place burned down. Here’s the kicker—one of the men staying at the apartment looked Middle Eastern. Which leads to the question—if this guy really is Middle Eastern, then what the bloody hell is he doing hooked up with a bunch of fanatical terrorist haters who want the West to stop importing oil from terrorist countries, which includes just about all of them?

 

“Our witness said when the original group returned late last night—we’re assuming from the Bayway bombing—the Middle Eastern man wasn’t with them. Like I said, we need to find out who he is. We’ve got a sketch artist working with the witness, and—”

 

“Nicholas, stop a moment. Send me the sketch when it’s finished and I’ll see if I can’t find out who this guy is. Now, are you and Mike familiar with Zahir Damari?”

 

“Yes, of course,” Mike said in the background. “überassassin, arguably the most deadly in the world. He’s a really bad dude, on everyone’s most-wanted list. Why, what’s up, Dillon?”

 

“We found out a couple of hours ago that he’s here in the United States. The Mossad believes he’s going to try to assassinate the vice president. Maybe others, still unverified. Probably Iran and Hezbollah behind it. Yes, yes, I know, the peace talks.”

 

Stunned silence, then Mike’s voice in the background: “And I thought our problems topped the list. You’re not putting us on, are you, Dillon?”

 

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