Target For Terror, page 13
“I don’t think he’s going to tell us anything,” she objected.
“Figures.”
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “What did you think? That Stefan would betray his attorney/client privilege?”
“No, not that.” Sloan divided his attention between the road and the rearview mirror. “I think we may have picked up a tail. There’s a dark blue sedan that’s been behind us for the past couple of miles.”
She shot a nervous glance over her shoulder. “Can you assume that so quickly?”
“Maybe not.” Sloan’s expression was grim. “But make sure your seatbelt is tight, because I’m going to try to lose him.”
The ancient cargo van was hardly a low-slung race car, but with Sloan behind the wheel, it did a good imitation of one. With a sharp turn of the wheel, he careened across several lanes of interstate traffic and flew off the nearest exit ramp.
“Look out!” she shouted at the moment he swerved around the car in front of them stopped at the red light. Ignoring the light, he barreled through a right turn, merging into the lane of oncoming traffic. Horns blared from all sides.
She didn’t breathe easy until he slowed down, once he’d gone through several turns along the back roads. “We can’t get to DC without taking one of the main bridges.”
“I know.” He continued to drive through Arlington County while avoiding the main highways. “I figured we might make it across if we use the Chain Bridge.”
“And if we don’t?” She was almost afraid to ask.
Sloan didn’t answer.
Natalia let out a deep breath and tried to think positive. If anyone could get them into DC without detection, Sloan could. He was good at his job, even if she wanted to strangle him more often than not.
Or kiss him. It was a toss-up as to which she wanted more.
The traffic thinned out a bit once they managed to cross the Chain Bridge and get into DC. Within a few miles, Sloan pulled over and parked the car.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“We’re going to take the Metro to the monument.” Sloan locked up the cargo van and pocketed the keys. “For one thing, we’re less conspicuous as pedestrians than driving around in the green cargo van. And for another, parking in DC is impossible.”
She couldn’t argue with his logic. When he took her hand, she caught her breath in surprise, then quickly figured out he just wanted her to keep up as he strode through the crowd of people to the nearest train station.
As she sat on the subway, Natalia realized it had been two days since she’d come home from work on the Metro. Two days and an entire lifetime ago. She wasn’t the same person, not after everything that had transpired in those forty-eight hours. From losing her home to an explosion, Ivan’s death, the attempts on her life, to kissing Sloan.
She didn’t know who she was anymore, especially with the big gaping hole in her past. For too long now, she’d done nothing but try to discover the real identities of her birth parents.
Would she ever know the truth?
* * *
July 2 – 2:37 p.m. – Washington, DC
* * *
Sloan slouched in the seat beside Natalia, scanning the people on the train for anyone who might be FBI. Despite his lack of sleep, every muscle in his body was on alert. His gut told him they were on the right track, meeting with Lara Nevsky.
When the train stopped, he stood and took Natalia’s hand again, to keep her close to his side as they disembarked from the train. The Washington Monument wasn’t far, so they walked.
“Let me know if you see her,” he murmured, his mouth close to her ear. He wished he’d had time to pull up a picture of Lara Nevsky, but he hadn’t. He’d need to depend on Natalia to pick her out of the crowd.
She nodded, glancing around at the people around them. He swept his gaze over the area as well to make sure they weren’t being followed.
“Over there,” Natalia told Sloan. “The woman wearing a light-blue and white short-sleeved blouse and navy blue slacks.”
“I see her.” Sloan noticed an empty park bench and steered Natalia toward it.
“Natalia!” Lara hurried over. “It’s good to see you.”
“For me too, Tetya.” Natalia gave the woman a warm hug, then turned to introduce Sloan. “This is Sloan, my protector. He used to work for the FBI.”
“The FBI?” Lara’s eyes rounded, her gaze turning hopeful. “Do you know Michael Cummings?” When Sloan shook his head, she continued, “The morning after his arrest, Alek asked me to call Stefan so he could get in touch with someone from the FBI, a Michael Cummings. I’d hoped you’d help me find him.”
The name wasn’t at all familiar. “I’m afraid I don’t know him. Why was Alek in contact with someone from the FBI? Were they working together for some reason?”
Lara twisted her hands together. “Alek and I haven’t been together for the past year, so I don’t know much. Only what Stefan told me. Alek claims he was taking trips home to Russia because this Michael Cummings asked him to meet with some people there.”
“But he didn’t say why?” Sloan pressed. Interesting, from what Lara was describing, he suspected Alek was functioning as a source of inside information. But for whom? And to what end?
“No.” Lara shrugged. “Stefan asked me if I’d ever heard Alek talk about this Michael Cummings, but since I moved out, I hadn’t.”
“Tetya.” Natalia frowned and took her aunt’s hand in hers. “I’m sorry. I know moving out must have been a difficult decision for you. Why didn’t you call me?”
“You had enough troubles of your own.” Lara patted Natalia’s hand with a sad smile, averting her gaze. She subtly withdrew from Natalia’s touch. “I didn’t want to burden you with mine.”
Sloan wanted to get back to the point. “I’d hoped you’d let us look through Alek’s papers, but I guess that’s not possible if you weren’t living together.”
“No.” Lara blushed, embarrassed. “I don’t have anything of his.” Then she lifted her gaze. “But I do have a house key I can give you.” She rummaged in her purse, then pulled out a key and handed it to Natalia.
“Do you think Stefan Durik would talk to us?” Sloan knew he was pushing, but he didn’t want to sit out in the open any longer than necessary. The last attempt on Natalia’s life had been outside his condo in the bright light of day. He wasn’t about to take any chances.
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Lara didn’t sound overly hopeful. She turned toward Natalia. “There is much I need to discuss with you.”
“We don’t have time now,” Sloan warned. As much as he wanted to hear more, the nagging itch along the back of his neck warned him they needed to move. He glanced over his shoulder, hoping the Feds weren’t out there with listening devices picking up their conversation. “We’ll get in touch with you later. Set up another meeting.”
Lara switched to Russian. “Natalia, you must be careful. I saw what happened to your house. You are in much danger.”
“Sloan understands part of our language,” Natalia replied gently in English. “But don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
He wished he could sound as confident; instead, he stood and drew Natalia to her feet. At least they had a name and a key, it was more than he’d expected. “Don’t tell anyone you spoke to us. Especially anyone from the FBI.”
Lara sucked in a quick breath, her eyes widening in alarm. “But why? I thought you worked with the FBI?”
“There isn’t time to explain, but you must trust us on this.” Sloan’s instincts were clamoring at him to leave, and he tugged on Natalia’s hand. “Please, don’t tell a soul.”
“Goodbye, Tetya,” Natalia said over her shoulder. “Take care.”
“You too. I hope and pray God will watch over you, Natalia.”
“And I pray He will watch over you and Uncle Alek too.”
“Come on.” Sloan dragged Natalia behind him through the crowd. “We’re going to head back to the Metro.”
“Back to where we left the car?” Natalia asked.
“No, we’re going to ride to the southeast side of DC.” Sloan took the steps down to the Metro.
“Why would we do that?” Natalia stumbled a bit, so he slowed his pace.
“To go to Pike’s Pub.” Sloan breathed a little easier when he didn’t pick out anyone who looked to be a tail. “A place Slammer hangs out.”
“Slammer?” Natalia wrinkled her nose at the name. “Don’t tell me we need another car?”
“Maybe.” He could admit he might have overreacted to the navy blue sedan that he’d thought was following them, but another vehicle couldn’t hurt. And he also wanted to know more about the Russian Mafia, and Slammer was the guy who might be able to give them a name. The guy had more connections than the hub of an airline. “I’m hoping he can help with our other problem, if you know what I mean.”
Natalia nodded, although her expression was uncertain. He waited until they were settled on the next train before filling her in.
The train filled up quickly as they grew closer to rush hour. At least the mass of people would make it difficult for anyone to follow.
They arrived at Pike’s Pub, a tiny hole-in-the-wall joint, an hour later. The outside of the building was falling apart, and he knew the inside décor wasn’t much better. Natalia didn’t belong anywhere near the place, but he didn’t dare leave her outside alone. They wouldn’t stay long, but with any luck, they’d find Slammer inside.
The stale scent of cigarette smoke and beer greeted them as he opened the door. Several men sat around the bar, most of them drinking. His hopes dropped when he didn’t see Slammer’s familiar face amongst the few patrons.
Sloan headed for the bar, keeping Natalia close to his side. She wasn’t dressed provocatively, but a few of the men leered at her anyway. He ignored them with an effort, ordered two soft drinks, and put cash out for the bartender. “Hey, you see Slammer around lately? The dude owes me heavy coin.”
The bartender, a large Asian man, scooped up the money, then shook his head. “Don’t hold your breath on seeing your money.”
“Why not? Slammer land in the joint again?”
“Nah.” The bartender slapped two lukewarm soft drinks on the bar.
He reached for his glass, eyeing the bartender over the rim.
“He’s not in the joint,” the Asian man continued. “He’s dead.”
“Dead?” Startled by the news, he stared at the bartender, his glass halfway to his mouth. He tried to cover his reaction. “How? What happened?”
“Blew up when that new car of his exploded about a mile from here.” The Asian shook his head and snickered, leaning one elbow on the bar. “Whoo-hee, you should’a seen the way that fire lit up the sky. I’m telling you, that Slammer sure knew how to go out with a bang.”
Chapter Fourteen
July 2 – 4:12 p.m. – Moscow, Russia
* * *
“I want an update.” The rain continued to pelt the earth, and the river outside was rising to a dangerous level. If the rain didn’t stop, the banks would flood. Again.
“There isn’t anything to update you on. We’re still searching for her.”
Svoloch. The job needed an expert, not an incompetent idiot. Was a trip to the US in order? No, it was too soon after Korolev’s death to take the risk. The threat of a flood made staying in Moscow a priority. “How hard can it be to find one woman?”
No response.
Stupid man. Remaining calm was difficult. The incessant rain didn’t help. “Is Nevsky still in jail?”
“Yeah. They didn’t let him out on bail.”
Good. At least one part of the plan was working. Soon all the power would be within grasp. But the woman needed to be found.
And silenced. Permanently.
A task that should have been done years ago or they wouldn’t be in this situation now.
“Find her. Call me every day until you find her.”
“Sure thing. Don’t worry, the next time we talk I’m sure I’ll have good news.”
“I hope so. Otherwise I might assume you are no longer of any use to me.”
“Don’t get hasty.” The underlying panic in his tone was perfect. “There are still a few days left before the deadline. I’ll get the job done.”
“You’d better. Or I won’t hesitate to replace you.”
Of course, the mole would be replaced soon anyway, but he didn’t need to know that. Not until the job was finished.
Not until Natalia was dead.
* * *
July 2 – 4:13 p.m. – Washington, DC
* * *
“Great. Now I’ll never get my money.” Natalia couldn’t believe the way Sloan casually sipped his beer as if nothing were wrong. “Jerk.”
“Hey, at least you know he’s not spending it.” The mammoth Asian man behind the bar actually laughed. “The fool was bragging about the sweet deal he’d made for the car too. Guess the car had the last laugh.”
The car. A sudden icy coldness slid down her spine. Sloan’s car? The one they’d traded for the awful rusty cargo van?
“When did this happen anyway?” Sloan set his half-full beer on the bar. “Didn’t see any cops or fire trucks outside when we pulled up.”
“Late last night, close to bar time.” The Asian puffed out his chest. “Did my best business last night, right under the nose of all those cops. You shoulda seen it. ’Twas a beautiful thing.”
“You’re the man.” Sloan grinned back at him.
“You bet.” The big Asian nodded. “You ever need anything, come to me. I’ll set you up, sweet.”
She poked Sloan in the ribs. Were they going to stand here in this filthy bar all day? Slammer had died because they’d switched vehicles. She felt sick at the thought of indirectly causing another man’s death. Not that Slammer was completely innocent, but he certainly didn’t deserve to die.
“Whad’ya want?” Sloan frowned at her, then gave an elaborate sigh. “Guess the old lady wants out of here. Catch you later maybe, for that sweet deal.” Sloan sent the bartender a sly wink.
Old lady? She narrowed her gaze and held her tongue. Barely.
The Asian shrugged, then picked up her untouched soft drink and downed it himself, emptying the glass with one chug. “Yeah, sure. Later.”
With relief, she headed toward the door as Sloan stayed protectively behind her the entire time. The moment they were outside, she turned to ask him about the car. He shocked her by covering her mouth with his.
“Not here,” he whispered before drawing away. “Come on, let’s pick up the Metro.”
Irritated at how he’d managed to leave her breathless with his unexpected kiss, she followed him to the subway station. Sloan had grabbed her hand again, keeping a brisk pace. At the train station, they had to wait for the next train, so she found an isolated spot where they could talk.
“Slammer died because we gave him your car, didn’t he?” Natalia kept her voice low.
“Yeah.” Sloan glanced around, making sure no one was close enough to overhear. “Whoever torched him didn’t do their homework though. They should have known we weren’t in the car. Which is a piece of the puzzle that doesn’t fit. Even a rookie Fed would have made sure before taking such a drastic step.” He shrugged. “Maybe we’re not responsible after all. Slammer could have ticked off one of his low-life customers. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
She didn’t ask what sort of customers Slammer had because she suspected she didn’t want to know exactly what wares he’d sold. “This is horrible.”
“No different than the other deaths.” Sloan gripped her hand in his. “We didn’t do anything, Natalia. Remember that. We’re victims here. You and I didn’t set that bomb.”
He was right. She let out her breath in a sigh. They hadn’t blown up the car. And if Sloan’s observations were correct, she wasn’t sure who had.
“What did the bartender mean? About doing his best business under their noses.”
Sloan grimaced and sent her a sidelong glance. “He pulled one over on the cops, selling drugs while they were right outside.”
Drugs? It bothered her that Sloan knew about that. Why not call the police? Let them know what was going on? “Oh.”
“Don’t get all bent out of shape. I’ve had to hang around these guys to get intel I needed about the Russian Mafia. It’s not like I’m involved in any criminal activity.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Sloan narrowed his gaze and changed the subject. “We need to go through Alek’s things, see what we can come up with. Do you know how to get to his house?”
“Yes.” The subway train pulled up, the noise making it impossible to say anything more. She followed Sloan onto the very crowded car. Seeing how easily Sloan slid into the buddy role with the bartender had bothered her more than she wanted to admit. Not that she was a total prude, but she’d never actually chatted with a known drug dealer before. On occasion, she’d get an ICU patient who had drugs in their possession, but that was the extent of her interaction with the criminal population of DC.
Until now. Drug dealers probably weren’t as bad as violent murderers, she reminded herself. Soulless murderers like the Solntsevskaya. So what if Sloan fit in? She trusted him to help find the man who’d killed Ivan. Which was all that mattered.
Uncle Alek’s house wasn’t far from hers, but it was more than a few miles from the nearest Metro station. “It’s close to Langdon Park. We can’t take the train the whole way though, and it’s too far to walk.”
“We can take a taxi from the Metro station. Can’t use a rideshare, as that’s a credit card transaction easily tracked. Regardless, I’m not ready to go back for the van yet.”
Because he was afraid that vehicle might explode too? She touched the cross at her throat. Lara was right to remind her to have faith in God. He’d watched over her and Sloan for the past few days. She needed to continue to place her faith in His plan.
