"I'm going to change and throw some clothes in a bag."
She nodded, putting her weapon away. While he was changing, she wandered around the living room, her gaze narrowing as she moved over to his desk. It wasn't the two computers and multiple monitors that surprised her; it was the map on the wall, marked with red pins and tags showing Qadir's known locations over the past two years. There were also photos under the map with men in robes and head wraps, sometimes in fatigues, sometimes in business clothes. Most were of Qadir, revealing how often he changed his look from dark hair to blonde hair to bald with a beard. There were a few other men in the photographs, too; some younger, some older.
Glancing down at the desktop, she saw intelligence reports, clippings of articles about bombings and terrorist attacks all over the world. He had an entire notebook filled with pattern analyses and predictions.
It was the work of a smart and thorough agent. It was also the work of someone obsessed. Someone who'd let a single mission consume his entire life.
When he emerged from the bedroom in a clean shirt and jacket, an overnight bag slung over his good shoulder, she turned to face him. His gaze moved from her to the desk, and then he shrugged. "I've been tracking him for a long time."
"I can see that."
"We should go."
"One second." She drew a breath and let it out, not really sure what she wanted to say. She'd never lost a partner in the field, but she had lost friends, people who were trying to do good, people who shouldn't have died. "I understand why you need to catch Qadir."
"Great. Then we don't have a problem." He paused. "Or do we?"
She took a moment to find the right words. "I just want you to think about how all this started: a bomb in a café, a federal prosecutor tied to the Meridien Tower fire, a building inspector with the same connection. Small, targeted explosives not designed to kill a high number of people, small-time players like Jonas Cray hired to spill coffee, a Building Department admin paid to get someone into an electrical closet, a strip club owner and a gym manager tied to poker games, money laundering, maybe drugs…"
His jaw tightened. "I don't need a recap."
"I disagree. There is nothing about the two prior explosions that suggests the work of Qadir. You said that yourself."
"Caleb Azrani's brother, Malik Azrani, works for Qadir. That suggests a connection."
"But the brothers were estranged. They grew up in different parts of the world. I just don't want us to get lost in this obsession." She waved her hand toward the wall. "And not see what else might be occurring. Maybe Qadir is now involved, but I don't think it started with him."
"You're going back to the victim's families, to Hartford and Faulkner."
"Yes. We have today and tomorrow to figure out what's happening before that summit takes place, and while I want to run as fast as you do toward the idea of capturing Qadir, I want to make sure we're not running in the wrong direction for this case. I think I should go to my office, and you should go to your CIA friends, and then we should compare notes."
"The last thing we should do is split up. I have your back, Kara, and I know you have mine. We don't know about anyone else. I don't need a meeting with my contact right now. In fact, it's probably better that we communicate using a protocol that we've already set up. Let's go to your office, and we'll discuss everything and everyone, not just Qadir."
She wondered if he could really put his energy and thought anywhere else, but she'd made her point, so she'd just have to see. Taking out her phone, she texted her team saying that one of the world's most wanted terrorists was now in New York City, and they needed to meet.
Max had been in a lot of briefing rooms over the years—CIA buildings, military command centers, embassy conference rooms, where the air was thick with tension and the stakes were always life or death. But he'd never been in one where he was the outsider, the civilian consultant whose presence was barely tolerated.
Kara's team had assembled quickly for a Sunday afternoon. The field office was mostly empty except for the essential personnel Jason had called in: Agent Tyler Brennan, who sat across the table studying him with undisguised suspicion; Agent Alina Vokov, a sharp-eyed, beautiful blonde; and Wes Paulson, a tech specialist.
Jason Colter, the head of the unit, stood at the head of the conference table, his expression determined as he asked Kara to brief them on the situation.
Kara stood, her voice clear and authoritative as she laid out the situation: the connection between the local bombings, Caleb Azrani and Qadir's organization, ending with the photo that confirmed Qadir's presence in the city.
"The important thing to remember," she said, "is that this investigation started with specific, targeted attacks against people connected to the Meridien Tower fire seven years ago. Samantha Barkley and James Cooper both had roles in the aftermath of that disaster. We can't lose sight of that pattern just because a bigger fish has entered the water. To catch him, we need to pick up some of the smaller fish first. Unfortunately, some of those fish are dying before we can get to them. Elias Costa was apparently killed in a car crash last night in Maine."
"I'll look into that," Wes said.
"Thanks. The infrastructure summit is on Tuesday. If Qadir is planning something spectacular, that's the most likely target. Which gives us approximately thirty-six hours to find him."
Tyler spoke up. "What about the Azrani brothers? Any leads on their current location?"
"Malik was spotted in Berlin three days ago, but that could be a misdirection." Kara looked around the table. "Caleb is in the wind."
"All right," Jason said. "I'm calling in the rest of the team, and I'll talk to Damon as soon as we're done here. We'll need to get 26 Fed involved as well. I know we've had concerns about leaks, but at this point, it's all hands on deck. Alina, I want you to coordinate with Homeland Security and the ATF. Wes, I need you and your team to figure out how Qadir got here, where he could be staying, and what identity he might use now."
"What about the summit?" Tyler asked. "Are we recommending that they cancel?"
"We are, but that's not our call. I'm sure there will be further discussions today." He paused. "Anything you'd like to add, Mr. Malone?"
