“But he still has to get through us to get to Khan.”
“You don’t understand. If Jake went after Khan, then he’s already gotten past your man and Khan is as good as dead.”
Jake pedaled across the courtyard in front of the San Sebastian Town Hall, past the carousel, and down Paseo de la Concha, the two-and-a-half kilometer walkway next to Playa de la Concha — shell beach. The late October sky was laced with streaks of cirrus clouds, sun sparkling off the ice crystals high above. The winds were light and the temperature unseasonably warm for the time of year. Jake noticed dozens of sun worshippers along the beach in a last ditch effort to grab a suntan prior to November’s impending chill.
Even at low tide the beach narrowed into non-existence as he approached Pico del Loro, a rocky finger that jutted out into the crystalline waters of Bahia de la Concha pointing toward Isla Santa Clara, the small island that guarded the entrance to the bay. Across the road from the rocky abutment, atop a hill sat Palacio de Miramar.
Five minutes later he reached the stone walkway of his destination, Piene del Vientos, the Comb of the Winds. The uneven stones were too rough to navigate on the bike, so he dismounted and walked the bicycle to the end of the walk.
Metal structures mounted into rocks stuck outward from several places in varying angles each with curved prongs resembling a metallurgical project gone wrong. It reminded him of oversized forks with damaged tines whose handles had become infused into the stone. What an odd place for a clandestine meeting, he thought.
Jake scanned the site and counted eighteen people, mostly couples and a few individuals seeking a moment of solitude. Conversations were dampened by the roar of crashing waves against the rocks and stone sea walls. The sound of the waves gave him a peaceful feeling. There was something about the water, he thought, the sound of waves crashing against the rocks and then receding back to the ocean that relaxed his mind.
He’d memorized Wiley’s message.
Every word.
Jake’s eyes landed on the only person that fit Wiley’s description. He expected a man but it was a woman wearing the green fleece, standing alone, gazing out over the water. She had olive skin and long red hair that draped down the back of her fleece. Directly in front of her, roughly twenty feet out was one of the metal sculptures jutting horizontally from a large rock out in the water.
Immediately to her right sat a couple on top of the three-foot rock wall that separated the walkway from the sea. The blonde woman crossed her legs in the lotus position while she scanned through pictures on her digital camera.
Further to his right, another twenty feet or more was a young blonde girl lying on her side gazing into the sea. Tendrils of her stringy blonde hair flapped with the breeze. She wore a pink short sleeve shirt and low-rise jeans with tattered bottoms.
He dug in his pocket and pulled out a city map of San Sebastian. Why all the cloak and dagger baffled Jake. He had seen these tactics used in movies. Wiley told him that in the world of espionage, old tactics and cryptic communication still worked. But this wasn’t espionage, it was about acquiring information to help him find a killer. He’d learned to trust Wiley’ wisdom. So if this was the way Wiley wanted it, then he would follow orders.
He smiled. In a way, it is kind of cool.
He approached the woman in the green fleece from behind. He spoke fluent Spanish. “Pardon me? Can you help me with directions?” He held out the map. “I seem to be lost.”
The woman turned around and for the first time he saw her facial features. She was late twenties, dark green eyes and dark eyebrows that didn’t match the rest of her features. He realized her hair was dyed red but it complimented her olive complexion. She’d pulled a wide strand of hair over her left cheek. When the wind blew, he could see a three-inch scar.
She took the map from his hands. “Where do you want to go?”
“Monte Igueldo. Do you know the way?”
The woman pointed to the top of the hill to her left. “There is Monte Igueldo. You went right when you should have gone left.”
“You look familiar. Have we met before?” Jake asked.
“No, I don’t believe so.”
“Do you have a brother named Marco? I think I see a family resemblance.”
“Marco died last year. I have no family left.” She said.
That was it, to the last word. Perfect. The message exact, identity confirmation complete.
“Do you have something for me?” Jake asked.
She dug underneath her fleece and pulled out a sealed manila envelope. “You are to treat this with the same scrutiny as his first message — eyes only.”
“Got it.” Jake understood. Burn after reading. “Do you work for him? Are we allowed to talk?”
She smiled. “Once we confirm identities we may talk freely. My name is Francesca, I’m an Emissary.”
Emissary. There’s that word again. “You work for Wiley too?” Jake asked.
“He told me you called him ‘the toymaker’ the first day you met.”
“I did.”
“So did I.” Francesca said. “Wiley says we think alike but I doubt it, you’re still a rookie.”
“Rookie? How old are you?” Jake studied her face. Her green eyes were penetrating. She seemed tough. He motioned to her check. “Get that in the line of duty?”
She rubbed her fingers over her scar. “Not that it is any of your business, but it is a reminder of a run in I had with an irritable Irishman.”
“Maybe Wiley’s right, we are more alike than you think. I had a run in with one of those as well.”
He had so many questions he wanted to ask. About her. About Wiley. But he didn’t have time. “Are you working with me on this?”
“No.” She smiled as she started to leave. “Wiley said you’re on your own. Sink or swim. I think you’ll be surprised at what you read. If you don’t get yourself killed, I’ll see you again…if not, it was nice meeting you.”
Jake stared as she walked away. She never looked back, never turned around, and disappeared out of sight.
He opened the envelope and read the information twice, committing every detail to memory. He was indeed surprised at what the documents contained. Vital information he needed if he wanted to kill Khan. Information that neither Bentley nor Kaplan had access to. Information that would get him to Khan, but might get him killed doing it.
The element of danger just increased tenfold.
CHAPTER 56
Kyli Wullenweber and her grandfather, Elmore Wiley landed in Brussels earlier in the day. She’d slept almost six hours on the flight back from Atlanta so she decided to go by the office to take care of her backlog of work. She’d been out of the office for several days, recovering from injuries caused by the explosion at the Louvre and attending the funeral of Jake’s parents.
She stared at her computer monitor in a daze, not focusing on her work. The last few days were surreal. Jake had saved her life in Paris, killing the second terrorist before he detonated his suicide vest, a blast that would have killed her. Jake stayed with her at the hospital during her recovery until CIA Director Scott Bentley delivered the news of the tragic fire that took the lives of his parents.
She wanted to comfort Jake at the funeral, but the reality was she hadn't known him long enough. As a matter of fact, she barely knew him. So why did she feel such a strong connection to him? It wasn’t just Paris, she felt the first pang when he left for Yemen with her grandfather. This was all new to her, these feelings. She’d had previous relationships, some she’d thought at the time were serious, but she’d never felt like this.