“Our firebug in Brooklyn. Louisa Barry identified his ass. Smart girl, she put the accelerant signature into the databases. After lots of integration and inputting data into ViCAP, she identified our firebug as one Andrew Tate, twenty-seven, first convicted of setting a string of fires around a high-end housing development under construction outside Seattle when he was only thirteen. Caused millions in damage. He went to juvie for four years, got out, then quickly went back in when some cars along a ‘peaceful protest’ route ended up on fire.
“And catch this, guys, while Tate was behind bars, he took several computer classes. The teacher marked in his record that he was amazing, a natural, outstripped him—the teacher—in weeks.
“Too bad, but this doesn’t tell us where he is now. His last known is a Seattle halfway house. He bolted on his parole in 2010, has been off the books since. I’m afraid that’s as far as I’ve gotten.”
“This is great, Davis,” Nicholas said, “and it explains a whole lot. I think you and Louisa not only found our firebug, we also found COE’s hacker.”
Davis tried not to look too pleased with himself, shrugged. “I gotta say, it was Agent Barry who did the heavy lifting. All I did was grab the report off the printer and look up a couple of cases.”
“Yeah, right,” Sherlock said.
“Davis,” Savich said, “I want you to get photos of our firebug out everywhere, particularly near Richmond. And again, good job.” Savich looked at each of them. “There’s something more, guys.”
“You have all our attention now, Savich,” Nicholas said. “Out with it.”
“Mike, Nicholas, have you both heard of the assassin Zahir Damari?”
“Yes,” Mike said. “He’s right up there with Carlos the Jackal, possibly even more deadly, will kill anyone for the right price. And the biggie: no one’s ever seen his real face.”
Nicholas added. “In England, we spoke of his chameleonlike ability to alter his looks, using plastic surgery and plugs and implants to change his face, allowing him to easily cross borders under false papers.”
Mike felt her heart start to pound. “I know that Interpol had an Orange Notice on his movements a few years back, thought he was gearing up for an attack in Paris. Everyone knew he’d murdered Benar Bhuttino in Qatar in 2010. Eliminating Bhuttino allowed the Arab Spring to take hold since he was no longer alive to fight against it. But again, he couldn’t be identified so how could he be found? All right, Dillon, why did you bring up Damari?”
“Better question,” Nicholas said, “who is Damari here to assassinate?” He trailed a hand over the top edge of his laptop, glanced at the screen. All was running as planned, his patch was holding. But who knew for how long? He was thankful the IT team was keeping a sharp eye on the situation.
“He’s here to murder the vice president of the United States,” Savich said.
Stunned silence, then: “But that’s crazy,” Mike said. “I mean, she’s covered from here to Sunday and sideways with security; he’d never succeed. How do we know this?” Mike was sitting forward as if she wanted to pull the information out of Savich’s mouth.
“The Israelis had been closing in on him, watching some bank accounts he supposedly has,” Savich said. “They say he flew from Jordan to London to Mexico City three months ago, then probably went north and over the border into the U.S.”
Sherlock went on, “Callan Sloane has friends in Mossad. They alerted her immediately that Damari was hired to kill her, and others as well, as yet unidentified.
“No matter how well she’s covered, guys, you all know Damari’s rep. He never fails, so this is a very serious threat indeed.”
Savich said, “When we meet with Carl Grace, we’ll soon see if the CIA truly intend to be up front with everything they know not only about COE, but also about Damari.”
“Well,” Nicholas said, sitting back, “that certainly tops what we have to tell you and Sherlock, but”—he nodded to Mike—“tell them, Mike.”
She gave them a fat grin. “I went to school with Vanessa Grace. Carl Grace is her uncle, evidently her handler. She was shot in Brooklyn, picked up by the CIA, stabilized, and medevaced down here. I hope Uncle Carl will tell us if she’s alive or dead.”
52
ROOK TAKES A2
Nicholas’s laptop beeped.
Mike leaned in to look. “Is it the breach? You didn’t get it contained?”