"Your guy Takamura has pulled two records from the database. Looks like he got them by cross-referencing some sort of criteria with the foreign student database. Location and characteristics of the people." Simpkins hit the enter key. Dublowski and Parker leaned over Simpkins's shoulders and watched as two faces appeared on the screen.
"And there they are," Simpkins said.
Hancock's desk was no longer the clear surface he liked to have at the end of the day. Files covered the top. He was writing on a legal pad, jotting notes, when there was a buzz.
He opened the left top drawer and pulled out the secure phone, a slim black handset that he tucked under his left ear as he leaned back in his seat. "Yes?"
"This is Ferguson. Dublowski and Parker are together now. Someone in Thorpe's office was killed. A specialist named Takamura. State police think it was a homicide. Parker and Dublowski went out to the accident site."
"And?"
"They got Takamura's office computer and took it to the Delta Force Ranch."
"What else?" Hancock asked. Ferguson was the CIA representative to Special Operations Command at Fort Bragg. As such, Hancock knew, his primary job was to constantly deny request by the army people for intelligence while trying to cram CIA agents in the various schools run by SOCOM. His other job, maybe even more important, was to keep an eye on the Green Beanies and make sure they didn't use too much of their initiative.
"Takamura's laptop was not found in the ruins of his trailer — he usually kept it in his car. His body was found with a cell phone in hand and a data cord that could hook to the modem of his cell phone. I've pulled the phone records — he called his office modem just before his accident. I think he sent some files to the office computer via the cell phone."
"And of course you found all this out after Dublowski and Parker had figured it out," Hancock said.
There was no reply. Hancock stared up at the ceiling, then returned his gaze to the chess sets on the right side of his desk. "Anything else?"
"I've got an inquiry from the state police in reference to Takamura's killing. They want to know if we know anything."
"Do we?" Hancock asked.
"Not that I know of." There was a pause. "Do we?"
"Anything else?" Hancock asked once more.
"I think they're one step ahead of us," Ferguson said.
Hancock laughed. "You don't even know where I'm going; my good man, so how could you even suppose they might be one step ahead?"
"Well, it's just—"
"Oh, no," Hancock cut him off. "Quite the contrary. Them thinking they're one step ahead means they're three steps behind."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Nothing right now. I'll call you."
Hancock hung up the phone. There was another buzz and his secretary's voice echoed out of a speaker built into the desk. "The D/O is here to see you, sir."
"Send her in," Hancock said as he cleared his desktop with a swipe of his arm into an empty drawer.
The double doors whished open on pneumatic arms. Kim Gereg strode in. She walked to one of the chairs in front of his desk. Instead of immediately sitting in it, she pulled it to the side where the chess sets were located and put it down just outside the rings of light reflecting down on them. She sat down, in as much shadow as Hancock was at his desk.
"What can I do for you?" Hancock asked.
"One of my men died yesterday in a car accident," Gereg said.
"I saw it in the morning brief," Hancock said. "Most unfortunate."
"Yes," Gereg said. A long silence played out before she spoke again. "You were very qualified in your support of stronger intervention in the Balkans."
"We either need to shit or get off the pot," Hancock said. "If you'd pardon my French."
"You don't care which?"
"Not particularly. I don't think that part of the world is in our strategic interests."
"World War I started in that part of the world," Gereg noted.
"World War III won't."
"You sound sure of that."
"Nothing is certain. But I do see certain parallels between this situation and the quagmire in Vietnam and I would prefer not to repeat history."
"I didn't know you cared so much," Gereg said.
Hancock smiled, not taking the bait.
"That was Adviser Lane's view, wasn't it?"
"It was."
She turned and looked at the wall of photos.
A long silence played out.
"I've gone through Welwood's files," Gereg finally said.
"Welwood?" Hancock asked.
A twitch of a smile touched the ends of Gereg's mouth. "My man who died yesterday."
"Ah, yes."
"He was doing some checking on a couple of operations. One code-named Romulus and one code-named Remus."
Again Hancock waited, not offering anything to Gereg.
"Have you heard of these operations?" Gereg asked.
"How should I know anything? They were obviously something run by your department," Hancock said. "After all, it was in your man's files. Why are you coming to me?"
"I've never heard of either of these operations and they're clearly connected, given the code names."
"You expect me to believe you've never heard of an operation run by your own department? What would the director think of that?"
Gereg stared at him for several seconds, then stood. "Thank you for your time. I know how busy you are."
"No more busy than you are," Hancock said to her back."
"Can you get to a secure modem?" Parker's voice sounded faint in the SATPhone.
"Hold on," Thorpe said. He turned to Master Sergeant King. "Is there a secure modem here?"
King nodded and wrote on a slip of paper. "Here's the E- mail address." He pointed across the office. "It's for that computer there." They were in the G-3 shop of Special Operations Command, Europe. Morty Lorsen had dropped Thorpe off in front of the building an hour ago and Parker had just called.
Thorpe read the address to her. "What do you have?"
"We recovered the last thing Takamura pulled up on the computer," Parker said.
"What is it?"
"Best you see for yourself, then give me a call back. It's being sent right now."
"All right." Thorpe hung up, then followed King over to the computer. It was evening in Germany and the room was deserted except for the two of them.
"We got it," King said. "Here it is."
Two faces appeared on the screen line by line. "Who the hell are you?" Thorpe whispered. Both men had dark skin and straight black hair. Their eyes were identical — deep blue with a steady gaze into the camera. The combination of eyes and skin color was disconcerting.
Names appeared below each: Jawhar Matin and Akil Matin.
And that was it.
Thorpe punched in Parker's SATphone number. "Who are they?" he demanded as soon as she answered. "Are there two killers?"
"As near as we can tell, the last thing Takamura did was a search for foreign students at the posts where the girls disappeared. He came up with these two."
"Foreign? What country are they from?"
"Saudi Arabia."
"With a name like Matin?"
"Jawhar there was at Fort Rucker when two girls disappeared. His brother, meanwhile, was at Fort Benning going through Ranger School at the time one girl disappeared there."
"You don't have any time at Ranger School to go kill anyone," Thorpe said. Thorpe remembered his own Ranger School experience quite vividly. He also remembered there were several foreign officers in his class. The same with his Special Forces qualification course.
"Ranger students get a twelve-hour break between each phase," Parker noted.
"And you're usually too tired to do anything other than eat and sleep."
"And maybe have your brother visit you," Parker said.