Hard Road (36 page)

Reznick nodded but said nothing.

Again, the man patted the angles and rifled the jacket pockets, patting around the ankles for knifes. Then he patted the chest and back for hidden guns. But Reznick wasn't packing.

The huge Fed turned around as Meyerstein approached. “He's clean.”

Meyerstein brushed past her colleagues and stood staring at Reznick. “I thought we were done.”

“So did I.”

“You mind explaining why you're here?”

“Does it matter why I'm here?”

“Jon, let's quit playing games. How the hell did you find me?”

Reznick shrugged. “It's no big deal.”

“No big deal? Trust me, it is a big deal. So, you wanna explain yourself?”

Reznick said nothing.

Meyerstein stepped forward, her face within a few inches of Reznick's. The smell of her fresh perfume again. “Look, either you tell me how you found us or you'll be hauled away in handcuffs, your call.”

Reznick let out a long sigh. “You have a secure cell phone, right?”

Meyerstein nodded.

“It also has GPS. I know a guy who provides a service to private detectives. If he has a cell phone number, he can pinpoint a cellular call to within a twenty-five metre to a hundred metre radius of the caller. He just pings the cell phone. Even secure cell phones. Should try it some day.”

Meyerstein stood, face impassive. Nonplussed, big time. He found her very attractive. Her simmering anger was controlled, which he liked. And he could see she wasn't scared of him. He liked that. A lot. “I assume you know that is illegal.”

Reznick said nothing.

“Look, Jon, I'd have thought you'd want to spend time with Lauren.”

“There's nothing more I can do at the hospital. She's coming out of the coma.”

“Don't you want to be there for her?”

“It's not a question of wanting to be with her now. It's a question of making sure she has a safe future. You heard the threats against my family. Well, I want to try and help you. In any capacity I can.”

“Jon, that's not going to happen. This is not your fight.”

Reznick stared back at her. “That's where you're wrong.”

Meyerstein stared him down.

“Do you mind if I put my hands down?”

Meyerstein nodded.

Reznick lowered his hands and felt acutely conscious that all eyes were on him.

“Look,” she said, “we are dealing with a very serious situation here, but it's all in hand.”

“Is it? I'm offering to help in any way I can. Advice, situational awareness, you name it.”

“We have our own experts, Jon. Besides, the FBI has rules.”

“You know the first rule I ever learned when I joined Special Forces?”

Meyerstein shook her head.

“The first rule is that there are no rules. You've got to use your initiative. Like you did down in Key West. Don't be restricted by some dumbass rules and regulations. Are you serious about finding the people behind all this?”

“Jon, look, I don't have time for this.” Meyerstein signalled to the huge Fed to take Reznick away. The guy reached out to grab Reznick's arm, but he easily shrugged him off.

Meyerstein nodded to the Fed to hold off.

Reznick said, “OK, answer me this. Did you manage to trace the guy who called me on the hospital phone?”

Meyerstein shook her head. “We're working on it.”

“What about the bio-terrorism threat? They're targeting Washington, aren't they? You're trying to track them down, right here and now. Is that it?”

“Look, I can't say any more.”

“You don't have to. I can help you.”

Meyerstein let out a light sigh.

“Look, I handed over the scientist to you. And you let me get my daughter. But don't shut me out now.”

Meyerstein looked at him long and hard as if trying to figure him out. “Jon, I have specialist FBI units who train for this kind of thing.”

“You don't think I know that? You wanna know who trains them?”

Meyerstein said nothing.

“Guys like me. I've trained countless teams at Quantico or down at the Farm down the years. I've trained SWAT teams, you name it.”

Meyerstein's cell phone rang. “Don't move,” she said, and walked towards the rest of the Feds on the platform. She put her cell phone into an inside pocket and was handed another cell. She nodded as she listened to whoever was on the line and glanced round occasionally to check on Reznick. Five minutes later, he heard her say, ‘Yes, sir, right away.”

She handed the cell phone back and approached Reznick, flanked by four Feds.

“There are two ways we can work this,” she said. “The smart way or the dumb way. The smart way you go with my men to an FBI mobile command
center
in the parking lot of the adjacent mall. The dumb way… The dumb way, well, let's not go there, Jon, what do you say?”

Reznick said nothing.

“Look, this isn't your fight, Jon.”

“Isn't it?”

Meyerstein ran a hand through her hair and he saw the steely expression on her face. “I don't know if you're just nuts or what.”

“I aced all my psychological tests. I work better than almost anyone on the planet under extreme stress. Look, any fucking malcontent can kill or pull the trigger. But it takes a certain type of person with real expertise to make sure you get the right target. Can't you see what I'm saying? I can help you.”

“Goddamn, what's wrong with you?”

“What's wrong with me? I don't know when to quit, that's what's wrong with me. Never have. And not when my family's involved.”

“This is personal now with you, isn't it?”

“Someone kidnaps my daughter and you ask if it is personal. What do you think?”

“I'm having a real bad day, Jon. This doesn't help me one iota. It's only given me another headache.”

“Look, I didn't come all this way just to kick my heels. So, do me a favour. Let me in.”

Meyerstein shook her head and smiled. Then she turned and walked away as her team of Feds surrounded Reznick.

THIRTY-TWO

It was a seven-minute drive under leaden December skies from Arlington across the 14
th
Street Bridge to the FBI's HQ in downtown Washington. Meyerstein sat up front in the passenger seat beside the experienced driver, Will Collins, with the three of the most senior members of her team, including Stamper, crammed in the back. No one spoke during the short journey and Meyerstein welcomed the quiet time to think through the fast-moving investigation. She thought of Caan. Then she thought of Reznick.

They were nearing the end game and Caan was somewhere in America's capital city. She knew her team were closing in. But she couldn't help wondering if they had covered all the bases.

She noticed her hand, which was resting on her lap, shaking, but maybe that was down to caffeine and lack of sleep.

The traffic was bumper-to-bumper as they crawled through the downtown traffic. Eventually they pulled up at the security booth at the entrance to the FBI's parking garage. She flashed her plastic ID badge to the armed security officer who scanned it with a mobile reader. Then the rest of her team did the same. A beep from the reader confirmed their identities and they were waved through to her designated parking space.

Meyerstein and her team took the elevator straight down to the command center on the fifth floor. The air of tension was palpable. Ninety per cent of the team were on the phone, some were ringing unanswered, printers churning out the paper, updates being shouted across the room, tasks being given, TV stations on the news channels.

“OK, people,” she said, clapping her hands to get their attention, “let's try and keep it down. We need to focus. First, can we bring up the map of the Washington Metro network on the screens?”

A Metro expert, James Handley, who'd been brought in, clicked a computer mouse and it duly appeared.

“OK, James,” Meyerstein said, taking her seat. “Gimme an overview and we'll take it from there. And keep it broad-brush.”

Handley got to his feet and pushed back his chair. “The Metro network includes five lines, eighty-six stations and one hundred and six point three miles of track. The system makes extensive use of interlining – running more than one service on the same track. There are five operating lines and one line under construction.”

Meyerstein interjected. “And we're not just talking about one jurisdiction, right?”

Handley nodded. “There are forty stations in the District of Columbia, fifteen in Prince George's County, eleven in Montgomery County, eleven in Arlington County, six in Fairfax County, and three in the City of Alexandria. About fifty miles of the Metro is underground.”

“How many stations are underground?”

Handley cleared his throat. “Forty-seven of the eighty-six stations. Track runs underground mostly within the District and high-density suburbs. The Metro system is not centered on any single station, but Metro Center is the intersection of the Red, Orange and Blue Lines, the three busiest lines. The mezzanine level of the station contains side platforms for Red Line trains traveling towards Glenmont and towards Shady Grove. Orange Line and Blue Line trains traveling in both directions share a center platform on the station's lower level.”

Meyerstein stood up again. “OK, that's enough, thanks. So, the Metro Center is the hub. That may or may not be important.” She turned and looked at the screen showing the network layout. “Bring up Metro Center, facts and figures and maps, entrances, whatever.” She scanned the details and something jumped straight out at her. “Hang on, hang on.” She focused on the Metro Center layout on the huge screen, in particular an adjacent area of the building's plans showing a hotel. Her twenty-five years within the FBI had honed her analytical skills. But there was something else. Intuition, perhaps. Then again, maybe it was just a hunch.

Handley asked, “What is it?”

Meyerstein looked around at the group and pointed at the map. “This is The Grand Hyatt. A rather nice hotel in the Penn Quarter. A rather nice hotel with…” She let the words hang in the air.

A few puzzled faces again.

“What's so special about the Hyatt? Haven't you been there, guys?”

A few shrugs and pensive faces.

Meyerstein looked around the group and smiled. “The Grand Hyatt, apart from being a rather upscale, also has…” She again let the words hang in the air. “Come on, people.”

Stamper put up his hand. “The Grand Hyatt has lobby access to the Washington Metro system.”

Meyerstein nodded. “That's absolutely correct. You can enter the Metro direct from the lobby of the Hyatt.” She pointed across at Freddie Limonton. “Run the face recognition program for the cameras in and around the Hyatt. How long will it take?”

Freddie punched in some keys on his laptop and nodded. “If he's been there, a few moments.” The few moments seemed like a lifetime to Meyerstein. “OK, we got something.” He pressed a couple of keys and three images appeared on the screens.

A casually dressed man with collar length blond hair wearing a button down pale blue shirt, slacks and tan shoes, a brown satchel slung over his shoulder, and carrying a quilted navy jacket. He clicked another button for a close-up shot.

“Scott Caan, leaving the Hyatt, forty-two minutes ago.”

Meyerstein felt herself grinding her teeth. She moved closer to the screens to get a better look. “Shit, he's on the move, people! Get this image out to all our guys. He's probably wearing the navy coat.” She looked across at Freddie. “Get on to the Hyatt. What name has he been signed under? When did he arrive? We need to search his room. We need a team on the ground at the hotel now. OK, run this image for all stations on this line.”

Freddie punched a few buttons. A minute later another image appeared on the screen. “This is Scott Caan getting off the Blue Line train at Crystal City.”

Meyerstein stepped within a few feet of the huge screens, the image of Caan looming large over her. He was now, as she thought, wearing the blue jacket and still carrying the satchel. “Damn. That's two stops further down the track than the Pentagon Metro. What the hell is he playing at?” She turned and looked round at her team. “Crystal City is home to numerous defense contractors and satellite offices of the Pentagon. Is that what this is about? Is this a stopping off point? A base camp. Let's open this up, people. I want your take on why Crystal City. Are we missing something?”

Jimmy Murphy, a senior all-source analyst, who analyzed threat information from multiple sources spoke up. “Well, as you'll know, a lot of Crystal City is underground. They've got a huge underground mall. Look, this guy is going to extraordinary lengths. He's having his face changed. He's got a new look. Maybe he's done the run through of the station. Is he checking that there's nothing out of the ordinary en route? This is meticulous detail. Does he suspect a tail?”

“Good points. But why Crystal City?”

Murphy cleared his throat. “I think he's being real cute. Perhaps he wanted to flush out any tail as he passed the Pentagon Metro.”

“Definite possibility. This would mean that there might be someone else with him. The purpose being to have a wing man.”

“In case Scott Caan is taken down. That would make perfect sense.”

Meyerstein looked around at her team. She could see the focus and resolve on each and every one. “OK, people, get the word out.” She turned and pointed to the image of Caan on the screen. “This man must not get on a train under any circumstances. He has to be apprehended, taken down, whatever it takes.”