In Hot Pursuit Read online

  “He must have had some sort of falling out with Raybourne,” Earnes added.

  “Indeed!” Dr. Bailey agreed. “Doesn’t seem that he was coerced into anything to me. He came to this country willingly. He must have known what he was getting into with Mr. Raybourne. He is yet to tell us exactly what that was, but we can only guess. I’m sure there’s much more to this entire operation than those passports.”

  “Let’s hope he’s not some sort of mad scientist. ISIS has been recruiting a lot of those to help them in the war.” Earnes offered up. “Was Homeland Security able to verify his identity?”

  “Our contacts in Saudi Arabia identified him,” Director Nilsson told them.

  “Then why was he traveling with a Pakistani passport?”

  “That, Agent Earnes, is still a mystery to us. The passport is a legitimate one. There must be a reason why the Pakistanis issued it to him. We still haven’t been able to verify if he has citizenship there.”

  “Do you think there’s a possibility that he could be a spy?” Bowles speculated.

  “Anything is quite possible, Agent Bowles, including him spying for another

  country. Mr. Al-Bishi seems to be in high demand. That’s why there’s no way he’s leaving this secured facility. He has been asking to speak to a lawyer. I was happy to inform him that we don’t afford that type of privilege to someone who has colluded with terrorists to do harm to this country. It was hard for him to accept it at first, but I think he’s slowly coming around to the idea that we handle things on our side quite

  differently. We answer to no one, but the President himself. We are here to protect the American people, and we will crush anyone who gets in our way of doing it, Mr. Al-Bishi included.”

  Earnes pushed his body back into the chair and crossed his long legs. “Do you think he will cooperate with us?”

  “He doesn’t have a choice at this point. He knew we have found the chips, and have them in our possession. He was wide awaked when we took them out. He knows the type of information we’ve found on them. And he has nowhere to go. With those startling realities staring down at him, it’s only a matter of time before he starts singing like a canary. Besides, at this point, being in our custody seems like a far better alternative than being in Mr. Raybourne’s. I’m sure Mr. Raybourne is still looking for those chips.”

  “Were you able to get any vital information from the chips?” Bowles was eager to know.

  “We got a treasure trove,” Director Nilsson chuckled. “Bank accounts, the

  numerous properties Raybourne owns, some of his aliases, people and countries he has dealt with in the past. And we got an idea of what he was doing with those passports, and the identities of some of the people he has already smuggled into the country. Our officers are rounding up some of those people, as we speak. We are still shifting through all of it.”

  Director Nilsson opened a drawer and reached for a file. “I have properties here

  that I will like you to have a look at—one is a farm in Herkimer County. We have already gotten a search warrant for the place. We are going to scour the entire property. There may be bodies buried there. There are two others in Port Jefferson and Rockville. It wouldn’t hurt to have a look at them. They are listed under aliases, but I have no doubt that they belonged to Mr. Raybourne.”

  Bowles and Earnes took the folder and each took turn looking through the information there. There were pictures of the properties, along with the addresses, and the directions of how to get to them.

  Earnes passed the folder to Bowles and stood. “We will get a jump on it.”

  “The houses have been searched twice, but you may be able to find something

  there that they missed. They are currently unoccupied. Raybourne has been playing his usual cat and mouse game with us—he may have circled back there, thinking we wouldn’t look there for him. Be careful how you approach.”

  Bowles got up to join Earnes who was already walking to the door.

  “Agent Bowles, can you stay back for a moment?” Director Nilsson stopped her.

  Earnes turned her and gave them a cool look. “I will be outside.”

  “Thank you, Agent Earnes.”

  Earnes opened the door and went out. Bowles went back and sat down on the same chair she had just left. She gave Director Nilsson a searching look. Dr. Bailey had already left.

  “We have a lead on Raybourne that’s worth checking out.”

  “Do we know where he is?”

  “Not exactly, but we have someone in custody who may be able to lead us to him.”

  She gave Director Nilsson a leveled look. “One of his men? I thought he was cleaning house. He has killed just about everyone who was close to him.”

  “The suspect doesn’t appear to have been in his close circle, but we are hoping that he might be able to tell us something. You are going to interrogate him to see what he knows. Pack your bag, Agent Bowles, you are going to the Caribbean.”

  She looked at Director Nilsson, and squinted slightly. “The Caribbean, sir? I thought the suspect was here, in the country.”

  “No, the authorities there have him in custody. He was caught using a fake American passport. He was passing off as a citizen of that county as well when they apprehended him. That’s what got them suspicious. He can hardly speak a word of English, and he looks nothing like most of the locals there. They didn’t believe his story that he’s American, either. CIA thinks he’s a terrorist from Libya who Raybourne is trying to smuggle in here. ISIS has mixed in their people with refugees going to Europe before, now they are trying to do it to us, via the Caribbean.”

  Bowles gave him a small nod. A tiny smile appeared on her full lips.

  “And they want us to interview him?”

  “They have agreed to hand him over to us.”

  “That’s a huge step on their part, sir. Usually, the CIA doesn’t allow us anywhere near their operations.”

  “They are with this one. It’s our case, Agent Bowles. We are calling the shots on this one. Raybourne is ours. He’s out of CIA hands now.”

  “This should be interesting. I will get right to it, sir.”

  “There’s a flight leaving at eight—that’s less than an hour.” Director Nilsson glanced at the Timex watch on his wrist. “There will be a small chartered plane waiting for you when you arrive in Barbados to fly you to the island. You will be met there by Agent Dylan Ferguson. The CIA is assisting us on this one. Ferguson knows people there. He’s flying in from Bogota to meet with you. He will accompany you into the city to interview the suspect. Keep him out of the room when you talk to the guy, and be selective what you share with him, because as I say, this is our investigation—we don’t need anyone or anything compromising it.”

  “Don’t you trust him, sir?”

  “They have agreed to help us, Agent Bowles. I don’t think we should keep them abreast of everything.”

  Director Nilsson pushed a large padded envelope across the desk at her.

  “Everything you need is in there, including a secured phone for you to keep in

  touch. There’s also a detailed briefing, including the name and picture of the suspect.”

  She took the envelope and stood.

  “A car is waiting to drive you to your place to get whatever you’ll need for the trip, and then to the airport.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Just bring back something good. We are going to get him.”

  “We will, sir.” She hesitated. “Isn’t Earnes accompanying me on the trip, sir?”

  “Not this time, Agent Bowles. Your partner is still under suspicion. This is a

  highly sensitive matter. It is best if he waits this one out. We need a big break, and

  we need it soon. We also need the suspect to be alive when you get there to question him. We can’t compromise this investigation any further. Agent Collins will escort you out of the building.”

  Director Nilsson pressed a button and Age
nt Collins appeared at the door.

  “Be careful, Agent Bowles.”

  “I will, sir.” She turned and went out the door with Agent Collins at her side.

  Earnes was standing in the hallway when she came out.

  “Going somewhere?” He glanced at her, and then at Collins.

  “Yes,” she tried to avoid looking him directly in the eye. She glanced at him quickly, and back at her the cell in her hand. It was the last time she would have to check her messages and make any calls before she headed out on the mission.

  “I’m heading out to interview a suspect.” She tried to sound nonchalant. She still didn’t feel comfortable keeping things from him, and certainly not the big secret that had been hanging over their heads like a big dark cloud for what seemed like an eternity to her.

  “Alone?” Earnes sounded disappointed.

  “Director Nilsson thinks it’s better if I handle this one,” she said it quickly.

  “A tip?” he asked vaguely. He was pressing her for details. She didn’t like that. “I thought we were going to check out the houses together.”

  She tried to appear acquiescent. She couldn’t tell him where she was going, so she

  didn’t answer.

  “What, I’m not allowed to know.”

  His voice was hard and accusatory.

  Agent Collins stepped between them. “We must get going, Agent Bowles,” he

  told her impatiently.

  She tried to sound apologetic. “It’s part of the investigation, Earnes. I’m sure Director Nilsson will fill you in on it later.”

  She had no idea why she’d said that to him, when she knew that Director Nilsson

  wanted him kept in the dark. Earnes was smart—he knew there must be a valid reason why he wasn’t partnering up with her on this mission.

  “I’m sure he would.” He gave her a hard look and turned away from her.

  “We should really get going if you want to make that flight.” Collins hurried her along the wide hallway.

  He produced a key and unlocked the elevator that was reserved for high- ranking government officials and the President himself when they made an appearance at the building. They got inside and Collins pressed the button to the underground garage. He led her over to a black Buick and ushered inside the passenger seat of the unmarked car, and slammed the door shut.

  “Here.” He handed her a metal box. “You know the drill.”

  She deposited her cell phone, watch, and gun into the metal box and handed it

  back to him.

  He took the box and pushed it under the front seat.

  It was a precaution they all took when they were assigned to sensitive missions.

  “A security pouch will be waiting for you at the airport. Your gun and watch will

  be replaced. Everything else will be kept here. You can retrieve them on your

  return.”

  Collins informed her as they drove away.

  Chapter 8

  She landed at E.T Joshua Airport, a small but workable airport on the small Caribbean island of Saint Vincent and the Grenadines hours after. She climbed out of the small chartered plane and stepped into the hot, blistering mid-afternoon sun. Her hands went up quickly to block the strong glares from her eyes. She squinted and reached for the Ray-Ban sunglasses she had tucked in her jacket pocket, and slipped them on. She adjusted the small overnight bag on her shoulder, and headed into the airport.

  She had read the file on the plane, and she couldn’t wait to talk to the guy and find out what he knew. She hoped he would be able to give them some useful information. The guy had been described as hostile and uncooperative. She was not counting on him not talking to her. She had dealt with far worst, and had gotten them to open up. Besides, she wasn’t getting back on the plane empty handed.

  “Agent Bowles.”

  Dylan Ferguson, the CIA Agent who had been assigned to assist her with the investigation was waiting for her when she came through the revolving doors. She recognized him from the small head shot she had seen of him. She headed towards

  him.

  “Yes. And you must be Agent Ferguson.” She smiled widely and offered her

  hand.

  She had expected him to look much older in person, and less attractive. Ferguson appeared to be around thirty. He was tall, tanned, and athletic, with unkempt sandy-blond hair. It wasn’t hard to tell that his hair and tan were from too much exposure in the tropical sun. He peered at her and grinned, exposing a perfect set of pearly whites. She smiled back. He certainly didn’t seem like a government spy who took out bad guys. He reached for the bag on her shoulder, and she allowed him to take it. She held onto the file.

  “How was your flight?”

  “Exhausting.”

  He chuckled and glanced back at the charted plane. “It could have been worst. Try taking a regular plane down here. It’s nightmare!”

  They walked through customs together.

  “First time?”

  “To this country, yes. I accompanied a group of terrorists from Afghanistan to Guantanamo Bay four years ago.”

  “I thought they had stopped sending them there.”

  “Not quite, but that’s our little secret.” Bowles gave him a coy smile.

  He must know more about Guantanamo Bay, and other covert government operations in the region more than she did.

  “We had to send them somewhere,” he said to her. “Our prisons are already overflowing with vulnerable people. One little push could send them running in the wrong direction. ISIS and Al Qaeda recruited a lot of their followers in prison. We don’t need those guys mixing in with them. We don’t need help making an already bad situation worst. It’s bad enough that we have to deal with those ridiculous so call home grown terrorists. You were military?”

  “Yes, a sniper.”

  “Impressive!” He turned and grinned at her.

  “And you?”

  “CIA all the way. I’m stationed in South and Central America for the time being.”

  Bowles gave him a surprised look. “I didn’t know CIA was still activate in the region. I thought they pulled all of their operations out of there a long time ago.”

  “We never left.” He flashed her a quick grin. “I should correct that—we can’t leave, not with Russia starting to show keen interest. The Russians are nefarious and ruthless. They swoop in and take what’s not theirs. They see an opportunity and they just pounce right on it. And it’s hard to get them out—see what they did with Afghanistan. There are speculations they are back there, assisting the Taliban with weapons.”

  “I can’t see them assisting a terrorist group. I thought they’d had Chechnya and Dagestan to deal with.”

  “Putin is a mad man! He’s cunning and dangerous. I see why Obama doesn’t trust

  him. I think helping the Taliban is his way of sticking it to America. I can’t see why anyone would think that he has America’s interest at heart. Besides, we are making a great head way with drugs in South America. There has been a significant decline in the amount that got smuggled into the US now.”

  “That’s valid reason enough to stick around.”

  “We aren’t going anywhere just yet.” Ferguson chuckled, and went through the door ahead of them. “This way.” He pushed the door and held his hand on it for her to walk through.

  They walked to the parking lot, and he stopped next to a black Land Rover. He unlocked the door, and she climbed in.

  “Have you been able to get anything out of the suspect?”

  She reached for the seatbelt and buckled it.

  “I’ve tried on many occasions. He wouldn’t open up. And he’s not considered a suspect at this point. He’s a prisoner. No doubt about his guilt. He was caught red handed trying to impersonate an American citizen.”

  “I’m surprise he hasn’t said anything.”

  “He’s stubborn as a mule!”

  “Does he speak English?”

  “I have no i
dea. The authorities here said the only words that came out of him when they arrested him were to protest his innocence, and to tell them that he was an American citizen being held against his will. He must have said that in English for them to have understood him. The people here are one hundred percent English. They speak a dialect, but it’s certainly isn’t Arabic. I doubt two percent of them speak a word of Arabic. That’s why they contacted us. I had someone there to translate the last time I tried to interrogate him, but he still wouldn’t budge.”

  “It said here that they think he’s Libyan.” She glanced down at the file on her lap.

  “Yeah. We finger printed him and sent it around.”

  “Maybe he only speaks Arabic or one of the dialects in the region.”

  Ferguson glanced sideways at her. “I heard you spent some time there—you may be able to reach him.”

  The drive into the city took less than twenty minutes. They drove into the prison yard where the man was being held, and got out of the jeep.

  “It would probably go over better if he doesn’t see you,” she told Ferguson as they walked through the gate. “I don’t want him to think that we are ganging up on him.”

  “Got you! I will wait outside. Don’t let your guard down with him. He isn’t as vulnerable as he seemed. Tripoli confirmed that he is ISIS. His family has ties to them. ” Ferguson looked at her and chuckled. “Look who I’m talking to—someone who has spent more time in the war zones than I did!” He signaled for the guard to let them in. “He’s in that room. Good luck with him.”

  She walked into the small room. It was almost bare, except for a chair, and a small table, and the metal bench the guy was shackled to. She closed the door and walked over to him. He had his head down, looking morosely down at the floor. He had injuries. The top of his head and left arm were bandaged, and there was a rough cast on his right leg. They had done a banged up job on him, she thought.

  He raised his head slightly when he heard her come in, and gave her a hostile look. She drew closer and looked at him. She didn’t expect him to be that young. He looked barely out of his teens, maybe twenty one or two, and he was skinny. What did ISIS want with him?