Chapter 28: Loose Ends

DC, Saturday, Late Afternoon

A muscular 30-something man slid into the passenger seat of a parked, nondescript sedan. "Hey," he nodded to the driver, then twisted around to put a lumpy bag on the back seat. A Glock showed as his shirt rode up. He pulled a small electronic controller from his jeans and put it in the cup holder.

"Noland," the driver greeted. "Why are you here? And what's that?"

"Upstairs thought you could use backup. And I have a stake this gets fixed."

"Me too. We need to bury any sign it went beyond Brock," the driver agreed, forgetting the bag. "The feeb blew his chance at the club."

"Single target, should be easy. What's the plan, Moss?"

The driver smoothed his thinning hair. His utterly unremarkable appearance had served the CIA field agent well. "Our FBI friend eliminates the problem at the drop point. Untraceable gun. We go our separate ways, no further contact."

He squinted in doubt. "Why give him a second chance to screw up?"

"So far he's only delivered Wentworth. Him taking care of this ensures his silence." Matter of fact, sans heat, "Damn Brock and the accident. There shouldn't have been collateral damage."

Noland shrugged. "We protected the Middle East initiatives. – What's plan B?"

"We are. We finish up if he fails."

"And the feeb?"

"He doesn't know us and Brock's dead. The only connection is a burner that I'll ditch after tonight."

Noland frowned. "Still a loose end–"

"–That can be dealt with later if necessary." Moss looked at his passenger. "We wait till the monitor picks up our target. I think he pulls the battery every night."

He grinned. "Not totally stupid."

Moss grinned in return. "Greedy and dirty. I won't lose sleep over this."

DC, Early Evening

Jane clicked the fob and slid into the FBI SUV he had used yesterday. He had driven it to Visualize after making sure he wasn't followed.

"About time. Sleep in or something?" Ojara's voice floated from the back. White teeth flashed in a quick smile. Dusk and deeply tinted windows made him nearly invisible.

Jane looked over his shoulder, returning the grin. "I just got the call. One accomplice arrived at the drop point. Cho and Abbott are staking him out now. Wylie says the other one is a few miles from here."

"Are you wearing the vest? Clear on the plan?"

Jane's eyebrows rose. "And I brushed my teeth after breakfast."

"Just following orders. So?"

"Cho's a worrywart in his old age."

"Or good SA. –So?"

Jane tossed his burner to Ojara followed by the battery. He pulled out of the parking space. "Put the battery in when I get to the highway. Yes to the vest. Yes to the plan." He recited by rote, "No matter what, I stay in this tank. I pretend to pick up the diamonds but won't actually touch them in case they're booby-trapped. Any trouble and I take off and hope they follow. And," he leaned over, getting an earpiece from the glove compartment and dropping it in a pocket, "once we're in range we stay in contact. –They can't read our audio can they?"

"No. Encrypted."

Jane pulled onto the highway for the hour's drive to the park. Both kept a keen eye out but couldn't find the tail in the gathering gloom. If they were being followed, it was by someone skilled in surveillance.

After awhile Ojara offered, "Your wife must worry that you're bait."

"She's a cop. She's used to it."

Ojara grinned and guessed, "You didn't tell her."

"Do you tell your wife?"

Ojara blinked. "Not married." He lifted his bare left hand which was just visible in the dark.

"Single guys don't think about how a wife would feel. ... Why keep it secret?"

Annoyed with being found out, "In the Congo the less anyone knows, the better. Safer."

"A-n-d?"

"Good habit, even here."

"Ah."

The conversation lapsed. A few miles from the park they inserted their earpieces. Cho's voice soon crackled in their ears. "Heads up. Unsub 1 has set up a sniper rifle at the drop point. Abbott's team is in place. Wylie's trace shows unsub 2 following you. Pull into the park and take it slow. We don't know unsub 2's role. I'll chase or assist as needed."

Light from the dying day faded to gray. After encroaching darkness had emptied the park of visitors the first unsub had set up tripod and sniper rifle near the drop point. Abbott, Muhammad, Hassan and some local agents had silently surrounded him in preparation for the take-down. The drop point was a hole in a tree by the park road. It was too high to be seen on foot, but could be reached from an SUV or pick-up. Cho, Vega and Wylie were nearby in a hidden SUV, waiting for Jane, Ojara and the second unsub.

Jane rolled his shoulders to relieve tension as the park sign came into view. A mile to go.

"Jane." Ojara waited until Jane glanced in the rear view mirror. "Follow the plan. Leave the heroics to me."

Jane nodded, muttered, "Gladly." He took a breath and signaled the turn.

Showtime.

LA, Early Afternoon

Lisbon slowly turned, surveying the area outside the stadium for the night's political rally. "Lieutenant Morales, how long before everything is set out here?"

"Another hour. Should be well before crowds gather." He pointed as he spoke. "Movable fencing to keep lines orderly. Metal detectors and uniforms to screen for weapons before entering. Jersey barriers to deflect a vehicle attack. And that area," he waved, "has large screens and loudspeakers for any overflow."

"You expect a crowd that big?"

"Safety will be a huge draw in LA." He exhaled sharply. "Thursday's murders ratcheted up interest in what candidates will do about crime."

"Expect violence – a riot?"

Grimly, "We hope it won't come to that but we're prepared. Two hundred uniforms with riot gear will be stationed nearby. Ambulances on stand-by during the rally. Most area shops and offices followed our advice and boarded up ground floor windows."

She nodded her acknowledgment. "My team's coordinating with campaign and stadium security on candidate safety. We've got it covered from arrival to departure. A clear, controlled exit opens directly to waiting vehicles." She turned to face him. "I need minute-by-minute updates on what's going on out here. If it turns violent, we're pulling them out."

"Will do."

They checked their audio links then parted.

Jane and Ojara

Jane signaled and turned into the state park. Once past the paved entrance, gravel crunched as he slowly drove down the one lane road lit by his headlights.

Cho radioed, "Unsub 2 is not, repeat, not following Jane in. We'll hang back to pursue if needed."

"Understood," Abbott responded.

Jane slowed to a crawl and edged the SUV right next to the tree. He lowered the window and reached for the hole.

Ojara warned, "Don't expose too much of your–" just as a red dot appeared on Jane's sleeve.

A shot rang out and Jane ducked back! Bark showered the roof.

"-GO!"

Jane peeled off as voices, grunts, noise spilled from the earpiece. They careened down the rough road.

The noise abated. Within minutes Abbott announced, "Unsub 1 disarmed and secured." Sharply, "Status?"

Ojara replied as Jane wrestled the bucking SUV over potholes and ruts. "Taking flight. No sign of unsub 2. Back on the highway for DC."

Cho broke in, "Unsub 2's following. In pursuit."

The SUV flew down the road like a bat out of hell.

Ojara cautioned, "Speed. No cops."

Jane consciously relaxed and slowed to just above the speed limit. They couldn't tell which lights were the unsub. They dared not communicate except by the encrypted sw radio.

Cho only spoke when they neared the city, close enough to be in range. "Unsub is in a light-colored Toyota sedan a mile behind you. Jane, head for Visualize and park."

Ojara, "Safe?"

"Wylie has him on monitor. We'll take him when he stops."

Jane, urgently, "Is the one Abbott got enough to convict?"

"Don't know. Let it play out."

Jane drove the quiet streets leading to Visualize. He found a space two blocks away. Cutting the ignition he took a breath and exhaled slowly, deliberately calming himself.

Ojara to Cho, "Parked. Where is he?"

Wylie answered. "He passed you. He's in the next block."

Cho ordered, "Walk the other way. Stay inside Visualize till we have him."

"Will do." Ojara nudged Jane, "Let's go."

They strode toward Visualize. Ojara lagged behind, covering Jane's back and constantly scanning for danger.

Jane ducked into an alley. "We can get in here instead of the long way to the front."

Ojara followed without comment. High concrete walls shielded the opulent buildings from trespassers and prying eyes. The gates were solid, decorated iron pierced only by peepholes for security.

Noland and Moss

They approached their target's now-parked vehicle.

"Who does it, you or me?" Moss asked.

"Drive past. I've got this."

"But–" Moss let it go and drove for another block.

"Pull over." Moss swerved and parked by a fire hydrant.

Noland hopped out. The street was deserted except for a car a block away. He circled to the driver's side, opened the passenger door and pulled the bag from the rear seat.

"What's that?"

Noland slipped the drone from the bag. "No need to get close. Nothing left to identify, just debris." He grinned, "And body parts. –Hand me that controller," motioning to the cup holder.

"You special ops guys and your toys," Moss grumbled as he got the device. Moss lowered the window and handed it over. He didn't see the nitrile glove or rag.

"Look at that!" Noland suddenly pointed.

Moss startled. Looked.

Noland clamped the wet rag over Moss's face from behind, crushing his head against the headrest. Moss gasped and arched, pulled desperately at Noland's hand. He weakened, seized, fell limp. Dead. It took just two minutes. Calm and efficient, Noland tossed the controller with Moss's fingerprints onto the front seat. He fished out the real controller, then put glove and rag in the bag and stuffed it into a pocket.

He launched the drone then cut between two buildings, distancing himself from the sedan and target. The drone's camera picked up two pedestrians near the SUV they'd been following. The first figure passed under a streetlight. Hair, face and suit matched the photo Moss had shown him. Gotcha. Noland tracked him using the camera, keeping the drone a half block back to mask the rotor noise. He'd act as soon as the target was alone.

Noland lost sight when the target rounded a corner. He back-tracked, drone swooping over the alley thirty feet up. Widely spaced pools of light just made the shadows deeper. Then a gate opened, spilling light into the alley and illuminating the target. He flew closer.

Security lights silhouetted a suited figure with curly hair walking toward the building. The drone plunged and he pressed the trigger. No more loose ends.

Ojara and Jane, Moments Earlier

Jane reached for the bell, stepping back in surprise when the gate instantly swung open.

"I saw you on the security camera," Merry said. She nudged the gate wide and wheeled a large plastic garbage bin out. Ojara helped hold the gate open.

"Merry, –Agent Ojara."

She nodded and chattered, "I'm helping my boyfriend. His shift's ending."

Ojara impatiently waved the woman inside, tensing. Jane turned toward Ojara, mouth open to comment. Ojara's skin prickled. This is taking too long. Ojara took Jane's arm to turn and urge him inside when–

***EXPLOSION***

Deafening noise followed blinding light. A shockwave of heat and debris crashed over.

Flames licked the ground, burning bits of flesh, clothing and plants in eerie silence to stunned ears. Dust hung in the air. Nothing moved.

Sirens wailed unheard in the distance.

Cho, Wylie, Vega, Moments Earlier

They turned off the highway, tracking both vehicles using burner signals. They drove past as Ojara and Jane walked toward Visualize.

Wylie peered at his laptop. "Ahead 600 feet, not moving."

Vega, pointing, "Think I see it! Light Toyota sedan."

"Vega, take right. Wylie, left with me. Alive if possible. Armed and dangerous." Cho cut the lights and double-parked in deep shadow under a tree. The three quickly advanced, guns drawn. Whispering, "Driver's alone. On three. One. Two. Go!"

Then–

A bomb shattered the quiet and lit the sky.

They ducked and turned, gaping.

"–Wha–?"

"–There!"

"–Fuck." Cho charged the car, reached inside for the driver. Still. He checked for a pulse. "Dead. Vega, secure the scene, call an ambulance. Wylie, with me."

They took off at a dead run.

Cho's light raked the alley. No one. A warped gate hung askew on one hinge. Guns drawn, they skidded to a stop at the opening. Small fires dimly lit the destruction. Torn landscaping, shattered pavers, twisted benches. Black pools with shredded flesh. Body parts. Smoke and a horrible barbecue smell of charred meat hung heavy in the air. Lights flicked on in nearby windows and a door opened from Visualize.

Cho called, "Danger, stay inside! This is a crime scene." He turned, light showing Wylie's too pale face. "–Wylie, call–"

A groan startled them. Cho's light lanced out to the pile of debris across the alley. Bodies! They rushed and dropped to their knees. The top figure painfully pushed up and away.

"Jane! Lie still." No response.

Jane shoved off Ojara's body and collapsed heavily against the wall. Cho ran his hands over torso and limbs. No broken bones, no blood. "Need an ambulance." He turned to the unconscious Ojara. Worry surged as he felt sticky blood in the agent's hair. "ETA on that ambulance?"

"Three minutes. Vega sent it here. She called in CSI teams for the unsub's car and, and this." Wylie swallowed hard. "Are they okay?"

"We'll see." Cho hovered over Ojara then drew back after confirming steady pulse and breathing. Head wound, possible spinal injury. There was nothing he could do, should do. He turned to Jane. He lit his face and mouthed, "What happened?"

Jane blinked a couple of times and seemed to regain his bearings. "A drone. It must've carried the bomb."

"Did you see anyone?"

Jane started to shake his head, thought better of it. "No. I heard a buzz. Then the explosion."

Wylie broke in. "Vega says there's a drone controller on the passenger seat. Maybe he had a heart attack or something?"

"We'll know after CSIs and ME get done. Where's that–"

"–Here!" Wylie stood and waved the ambulance over.

Turning back to Jane, "Who died?"

His face crumpled. "A Visualize staffer. Young woman named Merry. Damn."

"Stay still. Ambulance is here."

Jane looked at the dark shape barely visible alongside. "Ojara?"

"Unconscious."

"How, what?"

"Later. After the EMTs take a look." Cho ignored Jane's weak protests as he made room for the medical personnel.

Visualize, Early Morning

"Patrick Jane."

The sharp voice slashed though Jane's muzzy dozing. He blinked awake and painfully rose. "Bret."

The cult leader's eyes blazed with fury. "A cherished member murdered, my residence attacked. Explain." Jane wavered on his feet as he gathered his thoughts. Stiles's gaze raked him over: Dirty, ripped clothing, scrapes and blood stains, stink of smoke. Coldly, "Sit down before you fall down."

Jane gratefully sank back into the chair. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his thighs. "I was undercover bait. We were hunting the men involved in the Sacramento airport bombing. Cho planned to take him down outside, nowhere near Visualize. We didn't know about the drone. Or bomb."

Stiles paced angrily, stopped, and faced him again. "You didn't knowingly – or stupidly – endanger my people?"

Jane shook his head. He looked Stiles in the eye, hiding nothing. "I wouldn't do that." A thought flickered. "Neither would Cho."

Stiles looked at him searchingly for a long moment. He abruptly sat and pressed a button on the nearby phone. Curtly, "Tea, please. Two." Eyes narrowed, he watched Jane closely. "Why were you undercover to capture a terrorist?"

Jane sighed. "The truck bomb was arranged by a CIA agent. We think he intended to scare the US, keep us in the Middle East."

"-Sabotaging the administration's promise to disengage?"

"The agent planned to stop the attack but died in a car accident. We know he had help. This operation was the only way to find them."

A servant brought in a tray, poured and left. Stiles handed a cup to Jane and took the other. "Who are these people?"

Jane drank deeply. "That's the rub. Faceless and nameless. Unknown numbers in the Federal government will do anything to keep power and advance their agenda. We're just starting to uncover who's involved and how they're organized. They don't care about elections or laws."

"Or lives," Styles said icily, outraged anew. "These are the people you want me to help find?"

Jane nodded. Tiredly, "Abbott and ... the people above him in the FBI and Justice Department need evidence to build cases, do it legally. It'll take time but–"

"–unavoidable lest we exchange one lawless contingent for another. Ironic." He sipped his tea, letting the silence stretch, then decided. "I will pass along any relevant information I discover."

"Thank you." Jane finished his tea. He straightened, expression somber. "I want to apologize to your staff for Merry's death. I know she had a boyfriend. She must have had friends too."

"I think ... not." Softly but with an edge, "You've long had trouble appreciating that guilt lies with the perpetrator. This is not your deed, Patrick."

"But–"

"–Responsibility for healing this is mine as leader." He rose. Briskly, "I'll be in touch. My driver will take you to your hotel." He nodded and left.

Jane had him drive to the hospital instead. After finishing immediate duties following the take-down, the team had visited the hospital en masse. They left once assured Ojara would fully recover though he would likely be unconscious or sleeping till the morrow. Cho left after talking with Ojara's wife, who flew in from California. Jane hesitantly peeked into the dim, silent room. A woman rose and stepped out of the room.

Mrs. Ojara turned out to be a dignified, statuesque woman who spoke impeccable English with a British accent. She looked Jane up and down and said, "I am glad to finally meet you. Aber thinks well of you." Jane slumped in relief upon hearing Ojara wasn't seriously injured and would recover. Jane and the elusive Mrs. Ojara agreed it would have been preferable to meet under better circumstances and promised to remedy that in the future. She didn't blame him either.

Jane got to the hotel at 3 a.m. and collapsed onto the bed fully dressed. He vaguely promised himself to touch base with Lisbon on Sunday and was asleep in minutes.