The American (10 page)

“That makes two of us,” was the amused reply as the two men went back down the stairs. Ryan collected Katie from the living room and walked with her to the door.

“Thanks again for dinner. It was so nice to meet both of you,” she said.

Her golden-brown hair seemed to glow in the warm light of the foyer. Ryan couldn't take his eyes away from her.

Julie gave her a warm hug. “You too, Katie. Bring her back soon, Ryan, okay?”

He smiled and gave Julie a quick kiss on the cheek. “Absolutely.” Turning to Jonathan: “Naomi's back tomorrow, right?”

“Hopefully.”

“I'll talk to you in the morning. We'll probably leave for Norfolk in the afternoon.”

“Sounds good. It was nice to meet you, Katie.” He leaned forward to peck her cheek.

“Careful, John,” Kealey said, a grin spreading across his face.

There was general laughter as they went back down the stone steps in the frigid night air, but the car was cold in more ways than one as Ryan turned the key and the engine purred to life.

They were halfway back to the hotel before he ventured an attempt at conversation. “So, it seems like you got along well with Julie.”

“She's great.” He could tell that she meant it, but the words were sharp.

“What's wrong?”

“Ryan, if you need me to tell you…”

“Katie, I really don't need this—”

“You know what I don't need? I don't need to be scared to death every time you walk out the door. I don't need
that
, okay? You almost died four days ago. I thought you
were
dead. To be in that position, not knowing…Do you have any idea what that feels like? Of course you don't. Now you're taking off again, right after I dropped my classes so we could—” She stopped herself, but not before Ryan figured out what she had been about to say.
So we could spend more time together.

He sighed in exasperation. He didn't mean to, and it was barely audible, but she caught the implication immediately. “And who's Naomi?”

“Katie—”

“Is she pretty? I'm sure she is…You don't need to answer that.”

Ryan looked over at her. From high above, streetlights positioned along the road occasionally cut deep into the shadowed interior of the car. Passing under one now, light flickered through the windows and clearly illuminated the expressions within. He briefly saw tears welling in her eyes, but the anger and suspicion he expected were not spread across her delicate features. Instead, her face was clouded with fear.

The next exit was for Rock Creek Park, and he abruptly swung the car into the lane on the far right. The road hummed quietly beneath the tires as Ryan eased off the accelerator. It was not the way to the hotel.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“You'll see.” They drove on for a few minutes more until he parked the BMW on a road adjacent to the park. Getting out of the car, he helped her into her black woolen peacoat. He noticed that she walked by his side, but stayed several steps away as they moved deeper into the park. The distance was a gulf between them. The trees lining the footpath towered far above like sentinels keeping a silent watch on the troubled couple below.

Katie slipped twice, Ryan catching her on both occasions before she fell. After the second fall, he couldn't help himself: “You're a little drunk.”

Despite herself, she smiled reluctantly. “I think you're right.” They were approaching a bridge running over the partially frozen water. There were fewer lamps here, but the moonlight cast a serene glow over the park and glittered on the ice covering the low stone walls. The stars were bright in the clear sky. They were halfway over the bridge when Ryan stopped walking. He noticed that Katie was shivering and pulled her close, rubbing her slender arms beneath the heavy coat.

“You're freezing…I'm sorry to bring you out here like this, but I wanted to talk. Not in the car, and not in the hotel.” She looked up into his eyes, and Ryan went on: “I
do
understand how you feel. I've lost a lot of people I've been close to. I'll tell you about it sometime, but not now. Not tonight.

“You asked about Naomi. I barely know her, Katie, but let me tell you what I do know. She's blunt, sarcastic, and ungrateful. She means nothing to me. Let me repeat that. She means
nothing
to me, and that's not going to change. I saved her life at the Kennedy-Warren and she didn't even thank me. Now I'm stuck with her for at least the next couple weeks when I want nothing more than to be here with you. I want you to be able to trust me, because I trust no one more than you.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a hand to stop her.

“Let me finish. I know that you're afraid. Tonight I told John that this is the last thing I'm doing for the Agency, and I meant it. A few more weeks at the most, and I'm done. I need you to be strong in the meantime. It's just a job for me. It's important that you see that. There's a lot I want to do when it's over, and I want—no, I
need
you by my side.

“Katie, I love you more than anything and I have to know: will you marry me?”

Ryan pulled a small burgundy box out of his pocket and opened it. He was scared to death, but Katie's mouth dropped open in amazement, her bright blue eyes sparkling with surprise and happiness. She flung her arms around him, causing the box to tumble out of his hand. He laughed and they kissed deeply. He had been terrified to ask, almost certain that she would refuse him. Now, breathing in the fresh, clean scent of her, he knew that he would never regret his decision. He was only angry that he had to leave the next day.

“I take it that's a yes?”

Katie kissed him again in place of an answer. They held each other for what seemed like an eternity until Ryan finally broke away.

“Now,” he said with another relieved laugh, “let's find that ring.”

I
t seemed like much earlier than seven when he woke the following morning, his eyelids tight against the light slanting through half-closed curtains. Despite the early hour, Katie was already up and moving about, a dizzy smile spread across her face. Both were pleasantly exhausted after having made furious love deep into the night and early-morning hours.

Ryan went about his normal routine in preparation for the day ahead. Every few minutes he would catch Katie staring at the diamond on her left hand and she would look up with a sheepish expression on her face. He knew how she was feeling, though, as it was his first time being engaged as well. It was an unusual confluence of emotions: pride, that he was good enough for a woman like this; anxiety, because he could still screw it all up; anticipation, thinking about the family that they would make together. Most of all, he just felt fortunate, recognizing how lucky he was to have her in his life.

By eight they were both ready to leave. He checked out of the hotel while Katie had the valet bring the car around. She drove south toward Langley because Ryan wanted her to take the BMW back to Maine, but she wasn't experienced driving a stick shift and needed the practice. They both burst into laughter when the car stalled at numerous stoplights and the vehicles behind erupted into a cacophony of horns and loud curses. For some reason, none of that seemed to matter.

It was almost an hour later when they arrived at headquarters deep in the wooded hills of Virginia. Harper had clearly made arrangements, as the security guards manning the gate waved them through following only a cursory inspection. The heavy sedan slowed to a halt outside the entrance.

“I hate this.”

“I know.” He gently touched her cheek. “I'll miss you.”

“Me, too,” she said. Her long fingers came up to wrap around his. Ryan leaned in for a quick kiss, but it went on for several minutes until he reluctantly pulled away.

“John's probably pissed already, I'm really late. I'll see you in a week or two—I'll let you know. I'll call you, okay?”

“You'd better,” was her quiet response. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He looked into her eyes for as long as he could until he bumped into someone and was forced to turn around as he went up the steps toward the main entrance. At the doors, he turned once again and laughed when the BMW pulled jerkily away from the curb. Clearly, she was having trouble adjusting to a third pedal.

Ryan had always been intimidated by the immense hall that marked the entrance to CIA headquarters in Langley. The space was dominated by the Memorial Wall dedicated to those field officers who had died in the line of duty. Due to the clandestine nature of the Agency, the names were not listed; instead, a star was attributed to each fallen agent.

Ryan occasionally wondered if a star was waiting for him. It was not for want of recognition, because he knew about the wall. He also knew about his profession, and was realistic when handing out odds, even for himself.

In the hunt for Jason March, he didn't care to hand out odds of any kind.

Leaving the elevator, he walked toward Harper's office and was admitted on arrival. He was surprised to see that Naomi was already there, waiting with the deputy director. She was immaculately turned out in a white suit jacket with a matching skirt that ended at mid-thigh. He was struck by her appearance until he thought of Katie and felt a small twinge of guilt.

“Good morning, Ryan,” Harper said. When he looked up, a strange little grin appeared on his face. “You're right on time, believe it or not; I was just about to tell Naomi what's happening. I've got you two booked on a 1:30 flight to Norfolk. The tickets are waiting at the airport, and I've made some arrangements for transportation when you get there.”

“Sounds good. Who are we meeting?”

“Adam North is your liaison on the ground. He's DEA—the same guy who hooked onto this piece of information in the first place. They want to be kept up-to-date on this, probably so they can claim partial credit when you run March down.”

“If, John. If I run him down.”

The DDO gave a little smile. “I have a lot of faith in you, Ryan. In both of you,” he said, turning to look at Naomi. “Anyway, you'd better get moving, especially if you plan to check your weapon. That plane is leaving with or without you. Good luck, and keep me updated.”

Harper shook hands with them both. On their way out the door, Jonathan pulled Kealey back gently, whispering quiet words into his ear. “I want you to watch yourself with Elgin. I saw that thing in your face yesterday when I mentioned the rape part—The president is willing to break some rules, but there's a limit to what he can overlook. You're no good to me on suspension or in jail, Ryan. Just be careful, okay?”

Ryan nodded and they were out the door. He didn't see the look that Naomi gave him. It was partially bemusement, but also understanding. She couldn't help but revel in the knowledge that she wasn't supposed to have. Lost in self-congratulation, she didn't quite catch his question.

“Sorry, what was that?” she asked.

“Your arm. How is it?”

“Oh, it's fine, thanks. By the way, that's a nice shade you're wearing,” she said with a smile.

It took him a second to catch on, but when he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, it came away smeared with Katie's pink lip gloss.
So that's what Harper was grinning about,
he thought with a rueful shake of his head.

They didn't speak again until they got to the airport, but Ryan noticed that the little smirk never quite left Naomi's face.

 

Less than three hours later they were on the ground at Norfolk International. Ryan had checked weapons on domestic and international flights many times before and knew how to fill out the paperwork, so there was not a substantial delay in retrieving his gun case. Soon they were moving through the automatic doors of the passenger terminal, stepping out into the cool autumn air. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number. “Yeah, this is Kealey. We're at the entrance for United. Okay, we'll be waiting.”

“When was the last time you fired one of these?” he asked Naomi after turning off the phone. He tapped the small metal case with his left hand.

“I have no idea. It's been a long time, though.”

“I'll ask North to get you something.”

She was about to decline the offer, but then she remembered General Hale's parting words:
Whatever happens, don't let March get his hands on you. Believe me, that's the last thing you want.
The memory sent another cold shiver running through her body.

It wasn't long before a large black Suburban with government tags pulled up to the curb and the driver jumped out. “Hey, Adam North, DEA.”

“Ryan Kealey, and this is Naomi Kharmai. Good to meet you.”

North didn't look like any law-enforcement agent Naomi had ever seen. He was huge; she guessed that he was well over 6' 4" and probably topped the scales at 270 pounds. He wore a black-leather jacket over a plain gray T-shirt and threadbare jeans. Her eyes moved down and noticed that his shoes were dirty Nike cross-trainers, scuffed and worn with age. The DEA agent caught her disapproval and grinned through a thick, unkempt beard.

“Don't look so disappointed,” he said. “I've been trying to put these assholes away for three months, and it's a little hard to blend in with a suit and tie.”

Ryan laughed as he tossed his little grip and Naomi's huge suitcase into the back of the truck. He sat in the front with North while Kharmai climbed into the rear seat.

“So,” North said as he pulled away from the curb and into traffic, “where to begin?”

“First off, I want your opinion. What was it between Shakib and this Elgin guy? Was he moving in the explosives?”

“No, I don't think so,” was the unexpected response. “Elgin's responsibilities all lie on this side of the ocean, and I highly doubt he has any real connections to speak of. Part of his job is to check the bill of lading against the actual containers on the ship. I think what happened is that he came across something he wasn't supposed to see, and he tried to make that work to his advantage. I would have to say he was successful, seeing as how he's still alive.”

“Did you talk to the port authorities?” Naomi asked.

“I did, but only to get a grip on the loading and unloading procedures. If Elgin was trying to extort money from Shakib, then the people running the terminal aren't going to have any knowledge of that anyway. Besides, I wanted to keep this information close to the vest. If Elgin gets word that people are asking questions, he'll find a way to disappear. He's not very bright, but he's smart enough to know when to cut and run.”

“Tell me about Elgin's job,” Ryan said. “What are his responsibilities? If he found something, how could that have happened?”

“Okay, when a ship comes into port, it's issued a job number, a booking number, and the port of discharge. Elgin is responsible for assigning the job number, which in turn places the ship in a pre-assembly area. Basically, that determines when the cargo will be unloaded. Then a dock receipt is issued against the cargo, and responsibility of the load is transferred from the ship's captain to the marine terminal.

“While the ship is waiting to be unloaded, the bill of lading is checked against the actual cargo. That's our guy's primary job, to supervise the walkthrough of the cargo hold. Right now, there are still no effective measures in place to check each container. It's a huge problem for U.S. Customs because there is no way to verify the contents. Closed containers, which is basically every container aboard, are listed as S.T.C. That stands for ‘Said To Contain.' The entire shipping industry is essentially run on the honor system. I mean, some of these ships can carry 7,000 twenty-foot containers. The amount of manpower that would be needed to check each one is completely unfeasible. It just can't be done.”

“Then how would he run across illegal cargo?” Ryan asked.

Naomi spoke up from the rear seat. “If the container was damaged, then they would have the authority to open it and examine the contents, right?”

“Exactly.” North looked back at her with a surprised expression. He was genuinely impressed. “It took me forever to figure that out, but you're right; that is the only way it could have happened. Indirectly, it was a huge break for us.”

“So from there, it was just a matter of locating the receiving party, which in this case was Michael Shakib. Well, this is just great,” Ryan said. A look of disgust came across his face. “This guy doesn't have anything to tell us. All he did was blackmail Shakib.”

“That's not entirely accurate,” North said. “Elgin can give you the ship's point of origin, as well as the person or company that consigned the container in the first place. I would say he has a lot to tell us.”

“Well, let's find out. What do you call this place?”

“It's called The Waterfront. I guess the owner doesn't have a lot of imagination.” He turned to Ryan with a look of incredulity on his face. “You're not thinking of going in now, are you?”

“Why not?”

“Well, the SAC at the Norfolk office is expecting you, first of all, and the deputy administrator came down from Washington to help supervise this little powwow. If you don't show up, that's going to be a problem. Second, I think we ought to decide how to deal with Elgin. I mean, he's not going to just hand over this information. He probably made a lot of money dealing with Shakib, so he won't be very forthcoming.”

Kealey frowned. “Listen, I've heard about Elgin, and I can't say that I'm very impressed. I'm under orders to move quickly on this, orders that came down from the president. I'm pretty sure that super-cedes the authority of the deputy administrator for DEA. The only problem I see is that you can't be involved in this if you're part of an ongoing investigation.”

“Actually, that's not going to be an issue.” A huge grin spread across North's face. “My boss got a personal call from the national security advisor. All domestic operations take a backseat to your little mission. She even threw out your name. I guess you must carry a fair amount of pull.”

Ryan didn't answer. He opened the metal case to reveal the components of his personal firearm, a Beretta 92FS. It was broken down into four pieces: the receiver, slide assembly, bolt group, and recoil spring. His hands moved in a blur as the weapon came together, the magazine checked and inserted, and a round chambered. The safety was on as he placed the pistol at his side and slid the metal case under the seat.

“That looks like military issue,” North said. “Got some years on it, too.”

“It's served me well,” was the response. Ryan wasn't giving anything away.

Adam North smiled at that as he took the next exit leading down to the docks. He glanced back at Naomi. “Are you coming in?”

“Well, I wouldn't be very helpful sitting here, would I?”

“I'm just saying…” The DEA agent flushed slightly as he turned to look at her again. “This is not exactly a friendly place, and what you're wearing isn't going to make this any easier.”