The End Game

“Yes. We’re to take a helicopter to Langley. Kick some CIA butt. Think you’re up for that?”

Nicholas looked over at Swanson. He flexed his bruised hand and smiled. “Yes, oh, yes, Agent Caine.”

47

QUEEN TO B4

George Washington University Hospital

When Carl Grace raced to the nurses’ counter, he was told there was nothing new on Vanessa. He sucked in a breath. That meant she was still alive.

He calmed himself; he had work to do. He found an empty conference room, closed the door, and sat down. He put on his headphones and started to dissect the past four months of data Vanessa had sent him to prep for his meeting with the FBI.

He found himself not really seeing the words, but rather remembering. It seemed like only yesterday when he’d gotten word in 1995 that his brother, Paul Grace, had been killed in Northern Ireland, leaving an orphaned daughter, Vanessa. The very next week, the aunt who was taking care of Vanessa was killed in an auto accident. Carl had immediately asked to be brought back to Langley, and adopted Vanessa. He remembered clearly when she was ten, Vanessa had found one of her father’s diaries and brought it to him, saying in an unwavering, overly adult voice, “Uncle Carl, I want to do what my dad did and what you do,” and that had been that. She’d never wavered from her goal, though Carl had done his best to tell her how fragile, how fragmented such a life could be, how it made children into orphans, as she knew firsthand. It had made no difference, Vanessa was committed. He remembered how she begged for the undercover case in Northern Ireland, where her father had died, and look where it had led.

She could be dying now, and like then, there was nothing he could do about it. Even though Spenser had shot her, Carl had put the weapon in his hand when he’d sent that ill-timed text.

He shook his head, refocused on Vanessa’s transcripts, trying to control the guilt. He wanted to find Matthew Spenser and COE and put a stop to them once and for all. He really wanted to put a bullet into the man’s brain himself.

He pictured her pale slack face again and wanted to cry, but he had to hold it together; time was ru

He started with the most recent conversation, two weeks earlier. She’d managed a secure video feed at a café in South Lake Tahoe near where the COE stayed off the grid, hunkered down in a mountain retreat.

I don’t have much time. We’re going to be on the move again soon. I have more photos. I’ve uploaded them to the server. Finally caught scary Darius on camera. I hope you can find out who he is because now I’m certain he came specifically to hook up with Matthew, but not to further COE’s goals. I’m thinking he might be after Matthew’s incredible invention of the tiny undetectable bombs—his special gold coins, he calls them—just like I am. It’s like Darius is weaving a spell around Matthew, encouraging him to think bigger, think about what he could do when he’s perfected the bombs, the power he would have to actually stop the terrorists who killed Matthew’s family.

My feeling is that this man who calls himself Darius is something else entirely, something evil, something soulless. I know he has a definite purpose in mind, and whatever it is, it isn’t good for Matthew or any of us. I know this all sounds melodramatic, but he scares me deep down where monsters live.

I’m sure now that Matthew trusts him more than he does me because he’s closed me out. Darius’s doing? Probably so. Matthew’s mood swings are more pronounced and happen often now, and that, too, is frightening, but nothing like Darius. No, nothing like Darius.

Now, something critical: I overheard Matthew and Andy talking about the oil companies and accessing their databases, but when I came in, they clammed up. Does Darius know about this as well? Is this also one of his ideas, and if so, what are they up to? You must identify Darius, as soon as possible. I’m really afraid of him. Believe me, he is dangerous, very dangerous.

Vanessa, I’ve got the photo. Great job. I’m on it. Now accessing oil company databases, that is worrisome. I’ll start digging. See if you can’t get Matthew to open up about this, okay?

As I said, Matthew’s closed me out. Now he only tells me what he thinks I need to know for the placement of my Semtex bombs, that’s all. All Matthew’s told me is we’re going to head to San Francisco next week.

What’s the target?

I’m pretty sure it will be the Rodeo San Francisco plant.

I’ll make sure the security is aware.

Good. Let me know when you have the ID on Darius. Uncle Carl, he scares me, he really scares me.

And she was gone.

•   •   •

Grace had run the photos but drawn a blank. He’d run them against every known database in the U.S. arsenal. Nothing.

It wasn’t until this morning after the meeting with the vice president, when Temp had told him about the assassination, that he knew in his heart, without a doubt, that Vanessa’s Darius had to be Zahir Damari.

He’d let the FBI run the two photographs using their extremely sensitive facial-recognition system. Maybe they’d be able to give them one hundred percent confirmation, but he didn’t need the proof. He knew.

If Vanessa’s instincts were right, not only had Zahir Damari been hired to steal Matthew Spenser’s new technology, he also pla

He read several of Vanessa’s recent e-mails. She’d found out from Crazy Andy—that’s what she called him—that they’d bought some cyber-software to attack the computer systems of a company. Thanks to the FBI in New York, that particular cyber-attack had been shut down.

He called up other videos, stared at her beloved face, so like her father’s, a beautiful face, his eyes, but she had her mother’s, Isabella’s, glorious red hair. Poor Isabella, dead at thirty-three of a brain tumor. She’d never truly known her daughter, the woman she’d become.

Vanessa wouldn’t die, she simply couldn’t.

“Mr. Grace?”

He came slowly to his feet, staring at the nurse who stood in the doorway. He was more afraid than he’d ever been in his life.

Then the nurse smiled. “She made it through surgery.”

“Will she be all right?”

“The surgeon will be along shortly. He’s—”

“No, don’t put me off. Is she all right?”

“She’s not out of the woods yet. She’s on a ventilator and they’re going to keep her in an induced coma for a little while. The damage was worse than they first thought. Like I said, the surgeon will be here shortly to explain everything.” She came to him, lightly laid her hand on his arm. “I know this is incredibly difficult, Mr. Grace, but you must keep faith. She’s still with us, and I for one will do my best to see she stays with us.”

48

ROOK TO A4

Maryland

Zahir drove toward Frederick, Maryland. He was calm and relaxed, and felt really good. Everything was coming together. He had twenty-four hours, a long day’s hike, to get into position. Having the security layout and blueprints of the target made it easier to decide where to set up his base camp. He admitted he was a bit worried about the dogs; he’d be stupid not to be, since the K9 security teams were in place as well. Their schedule was set so he should be able to avoid them. He had deer scent in his bag; he pla