‘Yes, but until he shows up, this is meaningless. In fact, I’m surprised he even bothered to send this message. How do you know it’s from him?’
Broker turns serious. ‘Kelly was told to pass on that the girl with the burning hair who you found alive? He left her dead.’
Zeb says nothing, shows nothing. Not even Andrews knew about the girl with the burned hair, only someone on the scene would, and also know that Zeb moved her away from the fire. Someone. Holt or his remaining colleagues.
Broker sees no reaction from Zeb, but from his very stillness he knows there is a blast furnace raging inside him.
‘That helps,’ says Zeb finally, ‘but it doesn’t change anything. The plan is still to draw him out to me.’
‘I would say you’re niggling away at him seems to be working if he’s resorting to messages like that,’ agrees Broker. ‘Do you want to pass any message back to Holt?’
‘Nope.’
They watch the party in silence, and then Broker nudges Zeb. ‘The Director.’
Zeb looks across and sees her raising an eyebrow at him. He makes his way across.
‘You don’t take orders, do you?’
‘Ma’am, I am shocked. I have never disobeyed an order in my life,’ he replies, straight-faced.
‘Be careful. You’re alone in this. You’re going up against an establishment that I can’t save you from.’
‘Not a new situation to me,’ Zeb replies and makes his way back.
Broker snorts in derision when Zeb updates him. ‘Funny how in the grand scheme of things, what happened in the Congo gets forgotten, or gets buried. Bureaucrats. Used toilet paper rolls have more value.’
Broker turns serious. ‘You might find it’s not just Holt gunning for you. The establishment’ — he waves a hand around him — ‘might want to bury all loose ends along with the story.’
Zeb nods once; he’s aware of that. They join Connor once the events have finished and make their way out.
‘Major, you’re coming to the Catskills with us next week, aren’t you?’ Anne asks.
‘I have a lot on my plate,’ replies Zeb.
‘Rory will be so disappointed. He was looking forward to having you there. Can’t you try, Zeb?’ Lauren asks him.
‘I’ll give it some thought and let you know in a couple of days.’
He goes back with Broker, who turns to him while driving, ‘You worried that Holt might attack when you guys are in the mountains?’
‘Yes. And also I don’t want Rory to get too close to me. You know very well I’m not cut out for these things. The closer I am to people, the greater the risk I put them in.’
Silence fills the car.
‘A long time ago, I knew someone who used to never turn his back on relationships, whatever the circumstances.’
More silence.
As they’re nearing Jackson Heights, Broker asks him, ‘What will you be doing now? Provoking Holt some more?’
‘I’m meeting the FBI.’
Chapter 11
‘What? Why?’ Broker exclaims.
‘The Director and I spoke at length tonight.’
‘I’m confused, man. You were at her table not more than five minutes. I was watching.’
‘We spoke outside the hall, when she was coming out of the restroom. But the how and where is irrelevant.’
‘Right, so what was she saying about them? And why couldn’t they contact you directly?’
‘Mendes wants to talk to the FBI. That’s thrown them in a loop, since they’re already talking to Holt.’
‘So?’
‘So, they want to talk to me first.’
‘About?’
‘No idea. The Director asked me to meet them as a favor to her.’
Broker mulls this over. ‘You know it might be a setup.’
‘Yep.’
‘You know you’re not the FBI’s poster boy. They could make you disappear under the Patriot Act.’
‘Everything is a setup to you.’
‘In my information business, it doesn’t pay to take things at face value. You’re really going to meet them?’
‘Yep.’
‘Maybe I should come along as backup.’
‘Maybe you shouldn’t.’
Zeb meets Isakson at Federal Plaza after being made to wait for far too long and then patted down and searched thoroughly. Isakson’s payback for humiliating him.
Isakson places a folder in front of him. ‘I think you’ve met Pieter Mendes. Ex-Ranger was in the Congo, and now in New York.’
Zeb opens the folder and idly flips through it. It has the same information in it that Andrews, and later on Broker, had provided him with. ‘Never met him. Name doesn’t ring a bell either.’
Isakson pauses. ‘Come, come now, Major. Let’s stop playing games, shall we? We know what you did in the Congo. Our brothers in the agency whispered in our ears.
‘After we leaned on them,’ he adds.
‘Don’t waste my time with stuff you and I already know,’ Zeb replies and gets up to leave.
Isakson steps forward. ‘You’re not going anywhere.’ He steps back when he sees Zeb’s expression.
‘We need your help,’ he says finally, after a long silence. ‘We’ve been receiving a steady stream of intel from Holt on Al Qaeda’s activities in the Congo. This intel has helped us close in on some dangerous networks. As you are aware, in return we have offered Holt immunity and witness protection. We didn’t question Holt too closely about what he did in the Congo and who with, but he did tell us that he was with five others and only three of them were left, and he also mentioned you were pushing a vendetta against him. Vendetta. His word.
‘Now, Mendes contacted us a few days ago, and he, too, said he had some information for us on the Congo. He specifically took Holt’s name and said he was aware Holt was informing on Al Qaeda and he had additional information.’
‘So talk to him. Why are you wasting my time?’
‘He’ll only talk to you.’
‘And if I refuse?’
‘We could make you talk to him.’
He shifts on his feet when Zeb gazes at him, his eyes cold, boring holes through Isakson, making the ridiculousness of Isakson’s comment obvious.
‘We need your help,’ Isakson repeats. ‘Mendes might have more intel, and we can’t pass up any opportunity to get more on Al Qaeda.’
‘Looks like it was pretty easy for you to ignore the mass rape and killing of women and children in the Congo. Or didn’t your new best friend, Holt, tell you what he was up to over there? Maybe you didn’t even ask.’
Isakson flushes deeply. ‘That was not my call. Way above my pay grade. You should know how these things work.’
Zeb looks at him contemptuously. ‘That rationalization makes you sleep better at night?’
A vein beats rapidly on Isakson’s forehead as he struggles to control himself. After a long silence he takes a deep breath. ‘Whether I do is not your concern. Will you speak to Mendes?’
‘Set it up.’
Isakson shows Zeb out. ‘Major,’ he calls out as Zeb steps out.
Zeb pauses, doesn’t turn.
‘We want you to get all the intel you can from him, not kill him. We would be most upset if anything happened to Mendes during your meeting.’
Zeb continues without a word.
‘I don’t like it,’ says Broker, when Zeb updates him. ‘The timing is too coincidental. Let’s face it; they have absolutely no love for you. If anything happened to you, they wouldn’t shed any tears. What’s stopping Holt from taking you out with a long gun as you meet Mendes?’
‘I’m going to meet him,’ and on that Zeb hangs up.
They meet at a crowded café near Times Square, late evening. Mendes’s choice. Mendes has specifically requested that Zeb meet him alone and that Zeb be dressed in tight clothes so that he can conceal no weapons.
Zeb is aware that Isakson has posted undercover agents around the café. He wanted Zeb to wear a wire, but Zeb flatly refused. Zeb is seated with his back to the wall, thick walls, enough to stop even a Barrett M107 shot.