The Carbon Trail (29 page)

The small North Korean stepped onto the roof as they approached. His bodyguard joined him, his weapon primed. Scrabo moved forward and reached out his hand.

“Kim-Jong Bae. Right on time.”

The man shook Scrabo’s hand limply and gave what passed for a smile.

“Do you have it?”

Evans wasn’t surprised at his lack of small talk. The Korean’s must have known that they were being watched, without being certain who by. Scrabo reached inside his jacket for the computer-chip. He held it in his palm for a moment as if reluctant to let it go, then handed it over. The bodyguard passed his boss a laptop and Kim-Jong Bae clicked the chip in, scrolling quickly through the screens until he was satisfied. Mitchell’s fake had passed inspection.

The leader bowed politely, waving them onto the chopper. Evans hung back, searching for some sign that Al Schofield’s men were about to appear, but there was nothing. No sound of feet on the landing and no back-suited troops bursting through the roof’s door. Only a faint glint of sunlight off a lens to Evans’ left said that they were even there. What the hell was Schofield waiting for? He must have seen the exchange. Once the helicopter was airborne the North Koreans would be impossible to catch.

Then it dawned on him. Schofield wasn’t interested in catching the Koreans; he wanted to shoot them all down! Evans couldn’t see the rocket-launchers but he knew that they were there. Schofield was going to send a message to the North Korean Government and any traitors on American soil. This is what happens if you fuck with us. There was no way that Joe Magee had sanctioned this!

As Scrabo climbed onto the chopper Evans did the only thing he could to stop Schofield executing his plan. He’d spotted a water tank as they’d entered the roof, now he sprinted behind it for cover. The bodyguard saw Evans run and pumped a stream of rounds into the tank’s side, spurting water all over the ground. Evans rolled onto his back and pulled his Glock’s trigger twice, hitting the man square in the chest. He watched him fall, thinking fast as the small Korean screamed at the pilot to take off. He had to stop them. Once they were airborne Schofield would shoot them down. They would all die and Magee would lose the N.K.’s intelligence.

There was no point trying to alert Magee. By the time he got his men there they would all be dead. He couldn’t involve the cops either; pitting the NYPD against Special Forces would be a massacre. Tom Evans dialled the only number that he could think of then he turned his attention back to the scene.

The Surion was rising slowly off the helipad with the small Korean still screaming. A look of panic covered Neil Scrabo’s face. Evans put two shots expertly into the chopper’s fuel tank, then another in the pilot’s back, watching as he slumped forward across the controls. The pilot wasn’t dead, he was too good a shot for that, but there was no way that he’d be flying anything for a while.

As the helicopter began to fall, Neil Scrabo glared at his erstwhile friend, his panic and anger escalating. Scrabo didn’t know it but Tom Evans had just saved his life, not that he’d ever say thanks. Evans reloaded and watched as the chopper started turning in a slow spin, getting perilously close to the roof’s edge. Kim-Jong Bae was pushing a gun against Scrabo’s head and shouting. His words got lost in the wind and he shouted them again.

“Your boss is going to die.”

Evans yelled back. “Unless you listen you’re all dead. Look to your right.”

The North Korean turned slowly to his right, moving Scrabo in front of him as he did. Evans watched his expression change as he caught the glint of the Special Ops’ sights. This time Scrabo did the yelling.

“You bastard. You set us up.”

“They want you dead. I don’t. Do what I tell you, it’s your only chance.”

Kim-Jong Bae thought for a moment then nodded, watching as Evans pointed towards the building’s electrical hut.

“When I say ‘go’, run behind it. I’ll get the pilot. Wait until I give the word.”

Evans knew that Schofield’s next move would be to launch a rocket at the Surion; they had about ten seconds before everyone inside was dead. He shouted “GO!” and the two men jumped from the chopper, running for cover behind the hut. Evans raced forward and pulled the pilot out, dragging his body behind the water tank just as the chopper spun out of control.

It spiralled over the building’s ramparts and careered into the street below. The sound of crushing metal was deafening as the rotor’s steel blades shredded and screeched against Scrabo Tower’s walls on its progress to the ground. Thirty seconds later the Kai Surion hit West Street with a sickening crash, followed by an explosion that Evans knew would have killed anyone nearby. He prayed that the business street was empty on a Sunday night.

Evans lay back against the tank’s cool steel, making plans to put a bullet in Al Schofield’s brain. It would have to wait; they weren’t safe from the Special Ops team yet. Suddenly a loud whirring sound cut through Evans thoughts and came to a crescendo overhead. He glanced up to see another helicopter appear and hover above them, generating a cloud of dust. It was just the cover they needed to prevent Schofield sending in ground forces to finish them off.

Evans grinned up at the Channel W news-copter and then laughed out loud, hoping that Al Schofield could see his face. Some journalist had acted on his last ditch phone-call and had just got the scoop of their life. Schofield wouldn’t try anything now, not unless he wanted to wave goodbye to his career on live TV.

Evans phoned Magee to say they needed evacuated stat, unless he wanted his covert operation all over the evening news.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

10 p.m.

Richie and Mitchell reached Magee’s office at the same time as Tom Evans, and Magee nodded them all to sit while he gave an update. Neil Scrabo and Kim-Jong Bae were safely in custody, looking at long days of questioning in padlocked rooms. The pilot and bodyguard were at a nearby hospital, the latter in its morgue. The Alliance thought they’d got the genuine research and it would be months before they realised that they’d been had, if they ever did. The North Koreans still thought that they’d bought their copy then been robbed of it by the Feds. All in all it was a good day’s work, except for one thing.

“Where’s Schofield? I want him, Magee. He tried to kill us.”

Magee swung his chair round and stared at Tom Evans, scanning his ex-protégé’s face; it wore a murderous look. Evans was furious and he’d every right to be, Schofield had tried to kill him. But if Evans retaliated, no matter how much Al Schofield deserved it, he’d end up in federal prison. Then the pardon they’d both worked so hard for would go down the tubes.

They faced-off for a moment while Richie and Mitchell looked on, then Magee nodded. If Evans was expecting an argument from him he wasn’t going to get one.

“You’ve every right to be angry, Tom. Schofield acted against orders and threatened your life. His men were supposed to intercept you on the rooftop and capture the targets before the chopper took off again. Instead he hung you out to dry.” Magee paused, knowing that his next sentence would elicit an angry retort. “We can only speculate what Schofield intended to do once you were in the air.”

Evans cut across him, outraged. “You know damn well what he was going to do! Shoot us down like dogs. The man’s an assassin and he’s wanted me dead for years!”

Evans saw Richie’s shock in his peripheral vision. Richie hated him too, for the traitor that he thought he was, but he was a better man than Al Schofield would ever be. Mitchell caught the exchange. It was another tick in Richie’s box as far as he was concerned; he’d stopped him killing Ilya as well. Mitchell felt safer by the minute leaving Karen and Emmie in his care.

Magee waved Evans into silence and nodded heavily. He was right. Schofield
was
going to shoot him down once the helicopter was airborne. Schofield wanted him dead and he was prepared to lose valuable intelligence to achieve it. Magee decided to tell them what he’d resolved to keep quiet.

“Schofield’s being interrogated.”

“About what? It was pretty clear what he was going to do!”

Magee shook his head. “Not all of it. Yes, he wanted you dead, Tom, and we can all guess at his motive for that. But he was ready to kill Kim-Jong Bae as well, so either Schofield didn’t care if we lost North Korea’s intelligence or he actually wanted us to. We’re beginning to think that it was the latter.”

Richie interrupted. “But why would he want that? The leverage that Intel can give us is huge!”

Magee turned to look at him. “We think Schofield was working for the North Koreans and didn’t want it coming out. It seems Internal Affairs have had him under surveillance for some time.”

Evans’ face contorted in fury.

“You let him back me up on that roof-top knowing that he might try to kill us all!”

Magee wheezed angrily. “I didn’t know anything! I’ve just found out what Internal Affairs were up to. They wanted to draw Schofield out and they saw their chance. You weren’t in any danger. They had one of their men in his team. One sign that Schofield was going to shoot you down and he’d have been stopped in his tracks.”

Evans froze at Magee’s words and the others watched, disbelieving, as Evans’ anger morphed into a loud laugh. He moved towards Magee and Richie tensed, ready to protect his boss. He needn’t have worried. Evans just slapped Magee hard on the back in congratulations, making him cough.

“You clever old bastard! You used me as bait to draw Schofield out.”

Magee shook his head then spoke in a wheeze.

“Not me. Internal Affairs. I knew the North Koreans had moles inside the agency but we were getting nowhere on finding them. Schofield can lead us to everyone now.”

Evans laughed again. “I wouldn’t want to be him once I.A. gets going. A win-win for the agency. Nicely done, boss.”

Magee gave a rare smile, then Richie gawped as he started to laugh with Evans about I.A. setting him up. Finally Richie couldn’t keep silent any longer.

“Am I the only one who thinks that this was risky?” He motioned towards Evans. “He could have died!”

Both men turned to look at Richie then they laughed again. Evans spoke first. “Walk in the park, son. Back in the day we did a lot worse than that.”

Mitchell and Richie shook their heads incredulously as the two men laughed on. After a few minutes the room quietened and Magee nodded Richie to report on the handover to the Alliance.

“OK. I’ll keep it short and sweet. Tabakov and his partner Javadi have the dummy file. It all went smoothly.”

Mitchell smiled, grateful that Richie hadn’t mentioned his momentary loss of control at the farm. Magee read their body language and instantly knew that something else had happened. He shrugged. It hadn’t interfered with the operation and that was all he cared about. Richie continued.

“Javadi sounded like an aristocrat. Someone high up in the Iranian regime.”

“You’re certain he was from Iran?”

“Positive. He was speaking Farsi and five years working in Tehran gave me a good ear for their class structure. He said something in Farsi to Tabakov. ‘This will accelerate our bio-tech programme. Our weapons will benefit.’”

Mitchell gave him a shocked look; Richie hadn’t told him Javadi had said that. Then he nodded. It made sense. If the Iranians had a biological and technical weapons programme, his research would be have been manna from heaven. His real research, that was.

“We got it all on tape.”

Mitchell startled again. What tape? Richie reached across and withdrew a pin from behind Mitchell’s lapel. It was the smallest microphone that he’d ever seen. Richie smiled at him reassuringly and Mitchell knew that when he transcribed the tape his angry exchange with Ilya would be cut-out.

Magee shook his head ruefully. So the Iranians had a bio-tech weapons programme. Another set of fanatics with lethal toys. Just what the world needed.

“Get the transcript straight to the White House, Richie. If the Iranians have biological weapons then that changes the game completely.”

“Aren’t we going to lift Javadi and Tabakov?”

Mitchell had been thinking the same thing.

Magee shook his head, surprising them both. “Ilya Tabakov and Daria Kaverin are just tired old reds who’ll be put out to pasture now. And Javadi will be more use to us free, now that we know what he’s up to. Our people and the British will keep a good eye on him here and in the middle-east, and follow wherever he leads.”

After a minute’s more silence Magee stood up, signalling them all to do the same.

“OK. I’d like to thank all of you gentlemen. We’ve managed to stop valuable research getting into enemy hands. We’ve captured one valuable asset and we have a good trail on another one. Plus, we’ve uncovered a mole in the agency. I’d call that a good day’s work, wouldn’t you?”

He turned to Mitchell. “Dr Mitchell. Thank-you for your part in this. Once you’ve tidied your affairs you and your family will be taken to an interim safe place under Agent Cartagena’s guard. After a short debrief you’ll be re-located to your new life.” Magee reached forward and shook Mitchell’s hand. “We may have started this operation with you as an enemy but I hope that we’ve ended it as friends.”

Mitchell nodded, shocked at the depth of feelings the words provoked. He’d never been what anyone might have called a patriot, but he felt proud that his research might help someone after he was dead. Magee read his thoughts and smiled.

“Richie will help you with the search for your birth family and to get your affairs in order.”

Mitchell interrupted. “I’ll need another day or two in Scrabo’s labs, to tie up loose ends and make sure that I’ve wiped all the files.”

“One day?”

Mitchell smiled. “I’ll do my best to be finished tomorrow, but I can’t guarantee it.”

“Fine. Richie, give Dr Mitchell and his family whatever help they need.” He patted Richie on the arm. “You did well. There’ll be a promotion waiting when you get back.”

Magee turned briskly towards the door, pulling it open. “Now, get out of here. Tom and I have some catching up to do.” He threw a smile at Evans. “Over quite a few beers, I think.”

***

The ride back to the Mitchell’s house was quiet, so quiet that Richie clicked-on the radio, grateful even for Country and Western to fill the void. What could they possibly say to each other? The normal come-down after an operation was multiplied by the fact that they both knew Mitchell was going to die. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon. He would only be part of his family’s life for a few more months. Richie couldn’t read Mitchell’s thoughts but if he could have done, he would have known Jeff Mitchell planned to make it much sooner than that.

Mitchell wasn’t sure how he was going to commit suicide yet, or when, but he knew one thing; he wasn’t rotting away in some hospital bed with sad faces all around. He couldn’t remember much about his life, but he knew himself well enough to know that he didn’t want that.

He would kill himself soon. After he’d tidied up things at the lab. There were some small research trials that he had to hand over, and a letter he needed to write Devon. He smiled. Devon would be safe to return now that Neil Scrabo was safely locked away. The organisation would need a new Director of Research and Devon deserved the chance. It couldn’t have been easy playing second fiddle for five years.

Mitchell needed to find his mother and sister as well, but Richie already had people in Moscow working on that. They would have to get them out of Russia. Once it came out that Mitchell had betrayed the Alliance it wouldn’t matter that his family hadn’t seen him for thirty years, they would be killed just for being related. He would get to speak to them on the phone before he died at least, and ensure that Emmie had the chance to know them someday. That only left two things to sort out. Greg Chapman and the Archaeus PDF secured in his lock-box at home. Mitchell switched off the radio and turned to Richie, wondering how to start. He decided on the direct approach.

“Richie. I need to ask you some things.”

“OK. Shoot.”

“I need to know more about Greg Chapman. Will you tell me about him?”

Richie swallowed hard. Magee had warned him that this might come, but he was still unprepared. Chapman had been his friend, not just a colleague. They’d sunk beers and chased women together after his divorce. Greg had been tailing Jeff Mitchell on the night that he’d disappeared. Richie liked Mitchell now, so he prayed to God that he wasn’t about to say something about Greg that would make him want to kill him.

Richie screeched the car to a halt and turned towards the passenger seat.

“What about Greg?”

Mitchell shook his head. He looked genuinely confused.

“I don’t know for sure. It’s just…I can’t shake the feeling that I know him.”

‘Know him’. Mitchell was using the present tense. That meant he thought Greg Chapman was still alive. Or else he was playing games. The look of confusion on Jeff Mitchell’s face made Richie dismiss the second idea. The man looked tortured, like he was trying to remember things that kept slipping away. He recalled Magee’s briefing about Mitchell’s brain tumour. It made sense.

Maybe Greg
was
still alive somewhere? Even as the thought came Richie rejected it. It was over two weeks since his last report. Wherever Greg was, if he wasn’t dead he probably wished that he was by now. Richie nodded slowly, reluctant to give anything away.

“I know Greg Chapman. When did you meet him? Was it at Scrabo?”

Mitchell shook his head, not in the negative but as if he was trying to shake something loose. The effort frustrated him and he banged his fist against the dash.

“I don’t know. I really don’t know.” Mitchell was almost shouting. “I know things about Chapman that I couldn’t possibly know, and his phone appeared in my desk-drawer at work one day. I found out that the building’s cleaners had put it there. They’d found it near my lab at Scrabo Tower. I checked Real Estate records and found Chapman’s address and when I went to his apartment to check it out, I already knew where to find his key.”

He turned towards Richie with an anguished look. “How the hell did I know where to find his key?”

Richie knew all about Mitchell’s trips to Greg Chapman’s apartment. He spoke slowly, trying to calm Mitchell down. “Where was it?”

“Above the front door, on the ledge.”

“Lots of people leave their spare keys there. It could just have been a good guess.”

“NO!”

The sheer volume of Mitchell’s words took Richie aback and years of experience made his hand twitch for his gun. The reflex died as soon as it rose and Richie watched Mitchell’s anguish deepen as he talked on.

“When I got inside, it was like I knew the place. Even his pictures seemed familiar.” He looked at Richie and half-smiled. “I checked Chapman out. He came from St Augustine in Florida. It’s a small town near Jacksonville. Picturesque. Flowers, churches, the works.”

Mitchell’s expression changed to sadness. “I went down there to see what I could discover. I met his parents, they were nice people. I felt like I knew them. The girl he used to date too. She teaches at his old school.” Mitchell hesitated, knowing that his next words would make Richie think he was insane. “I …I knew things about her, Richie. Things that I couldn’t possibly have known. It scared the crap out of me.”

Richie nodded. He knew all about Mitchell’s Florida trip. Brookman’s team had watched him carefully, but Richie hadn’t understood why Mitchell had gone until now. Mitchell was still rambling. He looked desperate.

“I feel things all the time, strange things. I have memories of times that I don’t remember living through, even physical reactions that feel like they don’t belong to me, like I’ve been combat trained, except I never was. I…I’d think I was going insane…hallucinating from the tumour, if Chapman didn’t really exist. But he does. He’s real. Greg Chapman has a life and I know too much about it. I need to talk to him. I need to find out how I know so much.”