Chapter 29
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In the week before the mission, Fiona remained deeply troubled. The proper name for what she was coming to terms with was a clinical spontaneous abortion. The emotion attached to it seemed agonizingly familiar. Finally she remembered when she'd felt this way before. It was when Michael had left her without farewell in Ireland.
Physically, she was fine. Emotionally, she fought instability. She'd feel him watching her, and when she caught his gaze, he always smiled but she could see his worry. When the first week passed and she visited the doctor, she'd had dozens of questions to ask, all of which were answered. Now, her mind was at rest, but her heart had a small, permanent empty space.
The empty space was a new element woven in the tapestry of their marriage.
She felt it and couldn't identify it, but Michael did when he told her the cells that might have become their child were gone, but the bindings borne of them were permanent.
"We're different now, Fi," he'd whispered against her cheek. "We can't change anything. Not what's in our past, any part of it. This is something between you and me. Only us. This will never leave us, but instead of it making us weaker, it can make us stronger if we let it."
"I know you're right, Michael," she said, looking into the most serious and open expression she'd ever seen on his face.
Her loss, their loss had been transformed into something new, a gift she could not have foreseen Michael would have the power to give. She was humbled by the peace and comfort he'd wrapped her in.
"Forever, Fi."
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That word, forever, was smack dab in the middle of something that repeatedly tugged and tugged at Fiona as she watched Jesse and Dani so very cautiously again not interact with one another at the meeting Raines had called early this morning. But when he left the room, her gaze followed him until he turned around at the door for a quick glance back at her. Only her.
After he left with Raines and Michael to look at something in the new com center SecuriCorp set up for their operation, she and Dani were the only people in Jesse's office.
Fi finally decided what to say and spoke softly. "Have you told him how you feel about him?"
It had become extremely obvious to her how deeply Dani had fallen in love with Jesse. After Michael pointed out that it was not a one-sided affair, she'd watched them together, and saw something she'd never seen in Jesse. He could no longer hide the fact that he was intensely aware of her presence, just as he'd revealed a few moments earlier.
"I don't think I can." Dani looked away. She didn't pretend not to know what Fiona was talking about. "I remember what I told you about Janssen, but . . ." She couldn't finish.
Fiona risked a personal comment. "I waited 15 years to tell Michael I loved him, and when I finally did, I didn't tell him, I wrote it. I wish I could change all of that."
Dani glanced at Fi. She looked as if she wanted to reply but words were trapped in her throat.
There was longing and anguish in Dani's eyes, and Fiona sought to reassure her. "It seems like a huge risk," she said softly. "It did to me. But, I hope you will tell him before he leaves with Michael. Jesse's my friend, and I worry about him because he's been obsessing over you since you were in the hospital. He needs to know."
It was the perfect nudge. "Obsessing?"
"Yes. Even Michael noticed."
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Coming back to earth after visiting heaven wasn't something either Jesse and Dani or Michael and Fiona wanted to do, but Raines' wife had arrived in Miami, and she'd asked them all to come for snacks and drinks before they all had to take on more serious tasks.
Neither Jesse or Michael wanted to go.
"It's my boss' wife who's asked, Jesse. I'm not going to be rude to a lovely woman who is battling cancer."
He checked his watch. "But we just got married, ah seven hours and twenty-two minutes ago."
"We won't be there long," Dani smiled all the way to her toes and slipped into her favorite pair of black heels. "I didn't know you could pout."
"And I didn't know you could-"
She pressed her lips to his and stepped back, thoroughly enchanted with her new married freedom to touch him whenever and how she wanted. It was incredible, the sweetest luxury she could imagine. It would take a lifetime to be filled with enough of him. "We'll be back here before you know it."
He held her lightly but his eyes were serious as his lips brushed hers. "This is forever, Dani."
"I know. Stop it," she said with a sigh against his cheek. "You're melting me."
A few townhouse doors away, Michael kept distracting Fiona with kisses. He was completely dressed, ready to leave and she wasn't quite ready yet, because she'd been delayed. Each time she added an undergarment, a blouse, a skirt, a bracelet, a shoe, he stopped her movement with another kiss.
The one that slid so slowly from her throat to the center of her chest before navigating to the left nearly undid her, which was exactly his plan. She pushed his shoulders back, stepped away, turned around to face him and somehow avoided collapsing under the intensity of his gaze.
"That's enough, Westen."
And then he laughed. "I sure hope this doesn't take long."
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At the end of their brief evening with their guests, Raines' wife paused while removing an earring. "They look good together, don't they? They seem very much in love."
Raines' eyes narrowed. "The Westens?"
She caressed his cheek with her palm. "Them, too. No, Jesse and Dani."
"What?"
"I knew you missed that," she said. "Probably just as well you're focused on the work ahead."
Twenty-four hours later, Raines leaned back against one of the oversized SUVs that transported their people and gear to the airport and watched discreet farewells between one of his case officers and her husband as they were standing almost in shadow near a loading bay and, on the opposite side, one of his operatives and his wife.
He recognized they would not be here if Westen's wife hadn't turned herself in to the FBI, or that in protecting someone, Pearce opened doors to the deeper investigation. He looked away from the two couples, and down at the concrete where he stood.
Unlike his wife, he'd missed the Pearce and Porter thing, which gave him a new concern for her objectivity and ability to keep her mind on the op he expected her to run.
Worse, he had his own private life to worry about. She was hiding it, but his wife was not doing as well this trip despite the new therapy she'd received outside Arlington. She kept assuring him she was fine, but he could see the pain in her eyes and remained unconvinced when she told him she was fine and to stay focused on his people.
Tonight, the teams were heading out together. They'd part ways in the Bahamas.
Axe, Peterbaugh and Carnahan had chartered a deep sea fishing trip with a Seguro yacht; Westen, Porter and Valdez would be flying on to Santo Domingo to meet the real estate representative whose primary employment was with the Sinaloa Cartel. It was in a hotel setting where Sophia was to identify Westen to a Russian mob member; Porter's presence was intended to deliberately provide confusion and backup.
All their bases were covered. Raines' former partner was running the FBI op from the location where the Valdez children had previously been held. The elderly couple who aided the kidnappers and acted as the childrens' caretakers had been coerced by Fullerton. No matter. They were charged with a federal crime, but their cooperation could play a role in the disposition of the case against them. When Fullerton checked in, they'd answer and tell him what he needed to know. The FBI was there to make sure it happened.
The initial steps for the operation had actually been taken last night while he and his wife were entertaining his small group of incredibly capable, talented and keyed up people, anxious for the operation to begin. Or, as his wife pointed out, anxious to return to their private lives before the operation started.
He saw Axe leave the plane and motion for Porter and Westen.
All the individual agents and personnel Anson Fullerton was blackmailing, people who had been located and identified by Oswald Patterson and Barry Burkowski, were currently under surveillance. For that portion of the operation, each agency provided a set of eyes on each person named on Fullerton's lists.
Last year, in a similar situation, they'd blanket-arrested office-bound compromised personnel; this year, they didn't want to tip their hand. Instead they planned to follow those individuals and watch to see who else they linked to and when. It created a scenario for additional arrests.
With the snoopers being snooped on from inside three separate agencies, it not only spread the work load, it made every agency, not only the CIA, responsible for the solution to the security breaches. Raines was convinced it was a much smarter plan, even if it'd been a royal pain in the ass to make happen.
He actually had Pearce, er, Porter to thank for the idea, but the implementation was his job, and that had been tedious, political and time-consuming before agreement was finally reached at the highest levels.
Vibration and sound pierced introspection as he watched as the plane taxi down the runway, lift-off and disappear into the night sky. As Pearce and Westen's wife approached, he straightened up and invited Pearce to ride with him if Mrs. Westen would agree to drive the other vehicle back to SecuriCorp.
Fiona provided him with a snappy two-fingered salute he interpreted as the sarcastic gesture she intended it to be. He had to smile.
Once they pulled away from the private airfield, he glanced over at Dani.
"My wife tells me that I should congratulate you, Pearce. So, congratulations on your marriage, but I'm going to keep calling you Pearce, if that's all right with you. We don't need another level of confusion."
"Thank you. It makes perfect sense. Pearce will be fine, sir."
"Marriage changes the way you relate to a loved one in the field," he said.
"You'll be running that op, sir."
"Yes, but you know how that works. This one's your husband, not your fiancé."
She was silent for a long moment before she replied. "He'll be fine, sir."
"Dani, it's not him I'm concerned about. I want to know you can do this."
She didn't hesitate. "I can and I will."
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Raines returned to SecuriCorp's com room, one especially outfitted for their needs. He sat on one side of the unit; Pearce on the other. Locating this portion of the operation was the true prize. Being able to run this from SecuriCorp added a layer of security around the heart of their work.
Raines was irritated that he couldn't do that from his own office here in Miami. There was a leak, and he was anxious to identify who, how many and where they were operating from. Things would start popping once someone raised the panic flag after they realized Peterbaugh and Carnahan disappeared into the night.
For uncovering his Miami leaks, he expect Patterson and Burkowski to be doing the jobs they were hired to do, never mind the gentle coercion he'd used to hire them. He was beginning to believe it when Oswald told him the CIA needed true geeks, not the pretend ones they apparently were using.
The two of them had found more information than he'd thought possible, and they'd been a lot more cooperative once Porter's company stepped in on their behalf.
The tempestuous past relationship between some of SecuriCorp's founders and the CIA had made negotiations interesting and tough. Frankly, Raines had been surprised by what the CIA had agreed to, but everyone involved grasped the necessity of eradicating the clandestine network Fullerton/Buller had built inside each federal agency.
The finger-pointing came back to the CIA every time.
Why hadn't they completed the job they started last year? Why had they allowed it to return with a vengeance and had grow exponentially to encompass most of the intelligence community?
Raines thought that involved too much blaming the victim for the crime, but he also saw that failure weighed just as heavily on Westen as it did himself. All they could do now was finish the job they'd started. It was now laser sighted in on two small, quiet, lethal, surgical strikes.
To protect themselves, SecuriCorp agreed to loan their facilities and the services of Jesse Porter to the CIA under some stringent guidelines. They required a waiver of release and liability for the corporation as well as Porter.
The corporation also represented the other private individuals involved, and negotiated liability releases for Oswald, Barry and Fiona Westen. Raines hadn't expected that, but he'd been impressed the company valued Porter's services enough to take those highly unusual additional steps.
It was 0100 when they returned to SecuriCorp and opened all their com lines to begin check-ins.
Raines took people. Pearce checked agencies and the new team member, the US Coast Guard. After the initial verification, they'd run silent and track.
The USCG was a key player for interdicting drug and human trafficking in the Caribbean and Gulf of Mexico and were informed of both sides of the CIA operation, from the Sinaloa attempt at creating a new drug route from Mexico to Venezuela and Columbia, and locating a previously unknown but long-operating drug and gun running operation from the Alabama and Florida coasts through the Caribbean.
He was running the op for Westen, Porter and Valdez; Dani was running Axe, Peterbaugh and Carnahan's operation.
They'd be working side by side, sharing information while Westen's wife, across the room, monitored FBI communications between his former partner and the kidnappers under house arrest.
He'd had an interesting conversation with Mrs. Westen regarding her status as an asset and what she might do to help, especially since she'd actually acquired a CIA security clearance several months earlier. The woman was not without talents; there was no sense in wasting them or her.
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They'd gotten in late, checked in with Dani before they got to the hotel and put on their we're-going-to-have-a-good-time faces. The hotel booked was a little out of the way, ideal for two college buddies and their co-worker who were taking a fishing trip.
They'd been backstopped with travel documents, passports and IDs. Sam would be their reluctant co-worker who would become increasingly agitated the farther they traveled from land. Nick and Ryan would be fraternity brothers who hadn't quite left their college years behind. They'd be keeping the captain and his mate busy with antics and incompetence.
In open seas, Sam would discover he didn't like all that water, and he'd gradually freak out, which would allow him to stay in the interior cabin and have the time and space to investigate the most likely of Fullerton/Buller's yachts in his commercial fleet for anything that would allow the Coast Guard a reason to board. He would also be the only one among them armed; his baggy shorts and Tommy Bahama shirt would hide his weapon while neither Ryan or Nick would be able to conceal a weapon with the wind on deck.
Sam had worked with both men for two weeks prior, and hoped they'd managed to transform themselves into the operatives they needed to be on this one. The single biggest problem for two guys from tactical support was dealing with losing their weapons and thinking on their feet. He was pretty sure they could do it. He hoped so.
This mission was well planned. The level of attention to detail was exactly the precision it required to act quickly and efficiently.
He looked at his fluorescent watch face. The damned thing was supposed to be waterproof; he doubted that, just as he doubted this would end peacefully. Anyone who had been as successful as R.J. Buller had been in evading discovery, awareness or capture for decades would be wiliest of opponents.
Sam figured he'd end up in the water sometime, somehow. If it was a mission on the water, he always did. He hated being without his Luminox. Unfortunately, it'd be a dead giveaway that he wasn't afraid of he water.
Like every other mission that began this early in the day, he had not slept. He'd lain in the bed and worked through plans, figured alterations and worked through those.
Peterbaugh and Carnahan snored. When morning came, Sam was ready. Edgy. Anxious. Damn, but he wanted this over.
The gods were listening.
The sun was barely above the horizon when they approached the charter yacht. The breeze was warm and the gulls were squawking and yakking. Sam squinted in the dim light. Damn, if that wasn't the old guy on deck. Buller himself. This would require some finesse.
Buller's location was supposed to be south of here. Somebody missed something somewhere. Time to readjust to circumstances.
Peterbaugh and Carnahan were yawning and scratching. "Heads up, guys," Sam said in low voice. "Buller senior's on the boat. Change of plans."
Someone from the boat called down to them. "Findley? Party of three?"
"Hey, yeah, that's us!" Peterbaugh called. "Man, are we looking forward to this!"
"Come on up and stow your gear," the voice called back.
Sam walked behind them and instructed. "Nick, take all our bags and stash them. Get your guns. We're going out; when we can't see land, we take 'em. We're just gonna roll with the punches."
Ryan answered. "Got it."
It wasn't a plan that could work because the gods also had a sense of humor.
As soon as they were all on board, it was clear to Sam he'd been made.
The captain was explaining how lucky their party was because the man who had put Seguro Charter Fishing on the map was with them this morning, and he had an affinity for finding the biggest fish in the ocean.
Buller the senior, was a short, wiry, over-tanned little gizzard of a fisherman drug and gun runner with sun bleached blond and white hair and skin like wrinkled tobacco.
He grinned when Sam extended his hand. "Chuck Findley."
He reached under his shirt for a weapon. "Ha. Axe."
And it was easy after that.
Sam pulled back and put a solid fist into his jaw. Buller dropped, and Sam picked up the .45 he dropped. It was amazing, but Sam suffered no remorse for hitting a senior citizen.
It took the captain and first mate a blink or two longer to figure out this wasn't a fishing expedition, but by then, Peterbaugh and Carnahan also reacted quickly, and had relieved them of their weapons and were holding them at gunpoint.
"Zip ties in the side pocket in my bag, I'll get 'em," Sam said, as he retrieved the bindings. Moments later, the captain, mate and the founder of Seguro Charter and Yacht Storage, a man who had successfully remained hidden for nearly three decades while running a gun and drug running business, were tightly bound at the hand and foot and separated.
Sam started the engines and headed to open sea. Once land disappeared, he slowed and called Dani.
Decided to shorten the trip," he said. "We got Buller, one of his captains and first mates and his boat. Call the Coast Guard." He gave her the coordinates.
"What happened?" she asked.
"Took an opportunity when it presented itself. I know it'll speed up the rest of the operation, but I'm tired of the damned two-step the agency wants to take with these bastards. I wasn't going to let him go."
"Ten four," Dani replied.
When the Coast Guard arrived, the sun was still low in the morning sky. Buller and his crew were taken into custody, and the yacht was thoroughly searched for a second time.
Peterbaugh had shortened the process by conducting his own search while Sam piloted the boat and Carnahan kept watch on the prisoners.
The boat was heavy with cash, cocaine and shoulder-fired SAMs. It was the weaponry that was the most startling and troublesome discovery.
Sam, Nick and Ryan had boarded Coast Guard cutter to talk to Dani from its com room and await instructions while the contraband/evidence was photographed and removed from the yacht.
The multi-agency task force would be heading town the chain of islands, following the Seguro Yacht storage and repair locations, a task which Sam dramatically altered by his quick intercept of Buller. Now, the entire process took off and speeded up to not alert the others in the Buller organization.
The second time Sam reported in to Dani, he explained why he'd made the decision he had and knew it would necessitate the DEA and Coast Guard mobilizing the next unit quickly. When she told him to wait for further instructions, it was the tone of her voice that told him something else was happening.
When she came back on the line, she told him he, Carnahan and Peterbaugh would be picked up by helicopter and taken back to port where they would be met by a DEA team for and would join support on the Santo Domingo operation.
The message from Raines was worse. "Westen has been taken hostage and Valdez is injured, and we've lost contact with her and Porter."
Sam hung his head. "Crap."
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Sophia Valdez was hiding an injury and trying to blend in on the streets. She'd left the high end hotel and worked her way back to a very different area. Blending in wasn't working. Too many cautious looks were coming her way. Walking so far, her business clothing and heels were extremely out of place. She found a tiny place that rented rooms, and was pleased to find the proprietor more interested in the US dollars she carried than the pesos she also carried, when it came to her interest in seeking privacy.
The room was small, sparsely furnished, with a window over a roof to the street level. If worse came to worse, she could use that. At least it had its own bathroom inside the room; what a tremendous blessing that was to be able to use that instead of the communal bath on the lower level.
She dropped her oversized bag on the bed and reached for a package of sanitized hand towels, opened it and pressed it to the wound under her arm. She wasn't sure whose shot that was, but she'd been nicked and needed to stop the bleeding. On top of the sanitized towel, she opened and pressed an entire package of facial tissues to absorb the blood. If she kept pressure on it with her arm, she should be all right.
Next order of business was the phone. She'd called in once, but now she debated. Deciding against that, she dumped the entire contents of her bag on the bed to see what useful thing she had there besides her .357 and an extra clip.
The security leak was fully functional, she realized.
No sooner had they arrived at the hotel lounge and started talking to their contact, the real estate agent working for the Sinaloa cartel, when two Russians approached their table.
Whoever they were, Michael recognized them immediately and addressed them in Russian after they spoke to him. Sophia had no idea what was being said, except the older of the two switched to English for her and told her not to worry, he was just removing CIA trash.
When Westen stood, he attempted to take the younger one's weapon, but it discharged and he was hit below his ribs on the left. He doubled over, whispered "run" to Dani and allowed himself to be led away. Porter had excused himself from the table to take a call, so she had no idea where he was now.
Sophia knew she needed to find Jesse Porter. She had bandaged herself and attempted to change her appearance enough to so search for him when she heard him rapping on her door. Thank goodness, he knew the language well enough to butcher it. When he cracked open the door, the proprietor was in front of him.
She assured him he was who she was waiting for.
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