Chapter Twenty-Six

Red

As Red drove back into the old part of the city, Elena turned to her, "Where are you taking me?"

"Back to your hotel. I'm sure getting cleaned up and lying down to rest will feel good."

"Who are you?"

Having jumped from the back of the van, Red prioritized getting Elena's and her phone back. Locking the back door to trap the man with the broken arm, then grabbing up the abandoned tire iron, Red had rounded the van to confront the men who had taken her. The tire iron raised and ready to land, the man, pinned in his seat by his two unconscious teammates, handed over the phones. From there, a flagged car was easily carjacked, and Red was in hot—adrenaline-fueled—pursuit. Of course, too bad Red couldn't just open the mic and listen to the conversation with the Pied Piper.

Pied Piper could be event security.

Did Red believe that?

She a little bit believed that.

He had the social graces. He had the strength. He had the height, so his supervisor would put him on the floor.

But Elena had decided to come with her.

She trusted her more than the Pied Piper. That might be because Red had gotten Elena's phone back and handed it to her. Phone's being a lifeline in most people's psyches, giving Elena the ability to communicate or call for help should have, and seemed to, establish safety between the two women.

Red would lay money on a bet that Elena had concluded that she was on a security team associated with Kamal and Joel Brighten.

Red tested those waters, "I'm private security. My job is to watch over you and protect your free movement until the transaction that you are arranging with Zayd Ali Kamal is accomplished. For example, I am sure Joel Brighton informed you that you will leave tomorrow morning to start the trip to Marrakech." Red sent Elena a wry smile. "I'll be making the same journey with you. It'll be a long day with all the legs we have to take. But you will be far more comfortable than I in that while you have first-class seating, Brighton arranged for my tickets—well, his secretary, Mr. Brighton delegates that kind of work—in coach." These were all details that should settle her nerves and help Elena to believe.

Elena nodded. "I need a drink."

Thankfully, from the information in Elena's phone, Langley had pinged Red and Grey with Elena's hotel, directions, suite number and layout as well as a list of available amenities. Having scanned over the information at the ball, Red was prepared. "There's a bar in your suite. When we go up, I'll make you one. Once you're more comfortable, I'll head to my room. Your suite has extra security through the hotel. Brighton knows I need to sleep at some point." Red grinned, hoping to make a human connection, but failed. "I'll be available when you wake up tomorrow."

They arrived at the hotel, and Red checked the car with the valet, which took a bit of brio since it was a five-star hotel, and she was driving a stolen car that she jacked from some poor guy who stopped to help back at the van accident.

As she'd driven after the Pied Piper to retake Elena, Red had touched base with Grey. He wanted Elena roofied if possible, so they'd have planning time. And they decided Red should take Elena to the hotel if possible. That's where they'd meet.

As Red and Elena made their way to the elevator, Grey did a brush pass with a hotel room key card—presumably so she could access the elevator, and a small vial with meds.

So far, so good.

Up in the suite, Elena kicked off her shoes and draped herself across the couch like a Regency damsel who had collapsed and was calling for her smelling salts.

Red made Elena a drink and roofied her with the pills. Granted, waiting for Elena to get herself undressed and tucked into bed first would have been so much easier.

A quick call to Grey, and he arrived to move Elena from the salon to bed. "I say we pull off her gown, and everything else stays on. Tuck her in, call it a day."

"Fine," Red agreed.

Grey held a noodley Elena up while Red unzipped her, then tugged the tight-fitting black velvet sheath over her head with a lot of hands shifting and teamwork. This was not their first rodeo. Red didn't know how many people she and Grey had undressed and put to bed over the years.

After Red pulled back the covers, Grey laid Elena down and tucked her in.

Then, both started pulling out the pins that held Elena's chignon in place and piled them on the bedside table.

Grey gathered Elena's dress and shoes and threw them out the window.

"The ring?" Red stared down at them. "We could take it now. It's a risk to continue with the mission as we outlined it. But the fake is somewhere in the back of the van. It fell from my pocket, and I didn't take the time to try to find it."

Grey pulled a foil packet from his pocket, shook it, and tipped his ear toward the door. Together, they moved into the salon, Grey shutting the bedroom door behind them. "I might take a known bite of pie over a possible slice on some occasions." He moved to the sofa. "But not this one ..." he let the thought trail off.

"Oh, this sounds good. Orange juice?" Red moved to the fridge and poured them each a glass.

Grey waited until she was sitting next to him, then said in a low tone. "The phone you picked up at the blast site belonged to Imraan el-Jafri."

Red leaned in. "I don't know that name."

"Interestingly, it was the DIA who identified him. One of your rescue crew recognized him in the blast zone when they were looking for you and took his fingerprints for confirmation. His team sent the information on to the DIA."

"But why would the DIA know about el-Jafri?" Red asked.

"That I can't tell you. What I can say is that el-Jafri is an exporter, mainly of opium. Very much in the ISIS fold. I understand he's part of a new group out of Northern Afghanistan and is very busy making their name known worldwide. That you grabbed up his phone is gold."

Red tucked her feet under her hip. "Good?"

"Excellent. First, el-Jafri is Elena's fiancé."

Red leaned forward, "Are you kidding me right now? It's not Poole?" She leaned back. "I kind of felt like she was just using everyone to get to her own ends, whatever they might be. I had some begrudging respect for that. Fiancé? Yup," she took a sip of her juice, "now I've lost all regard. Tell me about the intelligence. It must have something to do with the ring and the money, or we'd just take the damned ring."

"The terror cell is planning three separate attacks. One is sending their people to various cities in the United States. Divide and conquer. They want to set off simultaneous events in different cities at a synchronized time."

Red pressed her lips together as she listened.

"Langley is developing the data. They're working with the FBI Joint Task Force on this."

"Who's leading that?" Red asked. "Frost?"

"Frost and Prescott."

"Good. Good. Okay, that's the one on the home front."

"One in Russia," Grey said. "That seems to be pure retribution and has something to do with daddy issues. And one is scheduled for a European concert."

"Okay, which concert? Where?"

"Right now, I only have the broad brush strokes. The U.S. is being treated separately because it is already funded and already in motion now that they have the information from Poole."

"But Russia and the concert?"

"That's vague. Langley needs more information. That's why we're not taking the ring. I am merely attaching a tracker to it." He pointed to the foil packet. "The money is destined for a group of arms dealers in Algeria."

"We're heading in that direction. Elena just found that out tonight. She's not the one pushing Morocco."

"Odd how synchronicity works." Gray adjusted himself on the sofa. "Elena contacted someone via text with her travel plans, and they replied that they would meet her at the border, and she should follow the same route as last time."

"When did she have a chance to send that?" Red asked.

"I read it when I went to the can."

All right, that's what Elena was doing when she was standing by the feathered woman near the mirror.

"Okay. Did Elena say which border?" Red asked. "We can't assume Algeria. And did she indicate which route? She won't have the ring at the border. She's selling it to Kamal."

"Right, we follow the ring to the exchange, and then follow Elena to the border and see what happens next. The arms have already been purchased. Elena simply needs to show up with the money."

"Forty Million?" Red asked, shaking her head. What would that buy? A dirty bomb?

"Could be a lot less. Just because she has the money doesn't mean she'll put it all into explosives. The more we know, the better we can break up this cell. I don't want to just cut the head off and watch another one pop into place. I want their operation stopped." He held up the packet he'd shown Red earlier. "Micro trackers, a gift from DARPA."

"Thank you, DARPA. Okay, we follow the ring."

"I don't. I have a situation on the front burner that needs my attention first thing in the morning. You're doing this. You and someone the DIA is sending your way."

"Seriously?" Red asked. "Who? Someone I know, at least?"

Grey shrugged. "I'm sure they'll introduce themselves to you along the way." He patted his knee. "What I'd like you to do now is go shower, get in bed with Elena, and get some sleep. I'll stay here and guard the situation."

Red just stood and looked toward the bedroom with a frown.

"You almost died in Lebanon," Grey said. "I never intended to tax you further by having the fight or the car chase. You need to sleep."

Red followed his instructions gratefully.

In the morning, he roused her as Elena was coming to, then slunk out the door.

Dressed in a simple skirt and heels, hoping to look professional and match what Elena might wear, Red sat in the chair, watching Elena sit up and reach drowsily for the light switch. "You," Elena said, focusing Red's way.

"Me." Red smiled. "I'm glad you were able to get some sleep. "Mr. Brighton wants to ensure you get on your plane to Morocco without glitches."

"Glitches, is that what you call last night?"

"You're here. You're safe. That was just a little upheaval." There was a tap at the door. "I ordered room service," Red said. "I thought we could both use a cup of coffee."

The rest of the early morning unfolded uneventfully.

Elena had luxuriated in first class, and Red was just so not in first class, but they made it to Amsterdam in less than three hours. It was now nine o'clock, and Elena could rest in the lounge until their afternoon flight. She had to be hung over from last night's sedation.

Elena had been first off the plane and had not waited for Red as Red had asked.

But how far away could she get? In order to get on the international flight to Morocco, they needed to go through a passport check, and then they'd leave from the same gate. Red had the trackers. Everything was fine.

In the line, Red was behind Elena, but not by much.

When Elena turned around and stared at her, Red sent her a smile and a finger wave. Friendly, see?

This happened again. And Again. And Again. Elena looked agitated. Frightened even, and Red didn't see a reason why. Was Elena trying to signal her?

Elena was up at the window, handing over her passport. She was talking to the man animatedly.

A guard tapped Red's shoulder and pointed to the open window next to Elena's.

"There. Her!" Elena said in a panicked voice as she accepted her passport. "She's the one talking on her phone about bombing the plane. You must stop her and her bags from going wherever she's flying today."

Instantly, sirens sounded. Guards with hands on weapons raced toward Red.

Red sent a shocked, wide-eyed glance toward a smirking Elena, who, passport in hand, winked and moved through the doors to her plane.

The guards slammed Red against the booth. Her arms were wrenched to her back, handcuffs snapped in place as a gun was trained on the little space at the top of her nose between her eyes where a bullet could kill her so thoroughly dead, that a finger on a suicide switch couldn't retract even from a left-over electrical impulse.

Red closed her eyes and held very still.

She really didn't want to die in a line at the airport.