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“I did not want to believe,” he finished. In the end, he’d had mere hours to prevent the disaster and move the weapons out early, but he’d lost his son when Bakr retaliated.
“You still have proof?”
Abraham nodded. “Proof that will get him killed, or worse, jailed.”
“Why now?” She asked in English. “It’s been two years.”
“I received a new message,” he replied in Russian. “There is a file. It was sent to Bakr as well.”
“So knowing you know, he kills you. Thank God he missed. But what does that have to do with me?”
“In my opinion, my brother believes you overheard something—the code that will unlock the file and release the funds that will save him from the mafia he double crossed when my son interfered with his plan. I am sure he has been doing other favors for them, but the score is far from settled.”
All of them turned toward the sound of more voices in the hallway. Eva recognized Special Agent Nichols and immediately switched back to Russian. “You believe the code is in the message from your son?”
“I do not know. As I said this is beyond my understanding. What I believe is thatyoucan figure it out,” he replied, pressing a flash drive into her hand. “You are my only hope to stop him.”
“Thanks for picking him up,” Nichols said to Ross as he joined them. “I’ll take over his security if you’re done here.”
Eva nodded, her mind already working through her memories of that mission. What signals had she overlooked the night Abe’s son was killed?
While Ross and Nichols worked out safety, communication, and access she noticed Abe’s slumped shoulders. “Mr. Morcos?”
“Forgive me.” He blinked several times. “Sometimes my sorrow is overwhelming. But you will put an end to my brother’s madness.”
Her throat clogged up at the sorrow radiating from him. “I’m sorry,” she managed. She wanted to explain, to assure him they’d done their best to get his son out alive, but the words wouldn’t come.
“You must not be.” He took her hands. “My son lives on, he guides me still. I pray he will guide you to justice.”
She watched them go, turning the message over in her mind as she tucked the flash drive safely into her pocket. She was eager to open it up, to compare whatever was on the drive with the after action report from that mission, assuming she’d find a connection or clue.
Unfortunately she wasn’t eager to share what might be on the flash drive with the ghost on the other end of the FBI computers.
***
Carson assessed the problems within the security team and dealt with the repairs to the back door while Eva and Ross met with Mr. Morcos in the den. Ross had warned him Special Agent Nichols was on the way in from Columbia.
Unhappy it made them easy targets, Carson ordered the perimeter security team to close in, posting guards at the front door as well as the deck. It couldn’t be helped. They’d all volunteered for this detail and the move was standard procedure while they waited for the all-clear from the team exploring the rest of the property. The guard who’d been compromised by the intruder still hadn’t been found.
No shock to anyone that Ross hadn’t gotten any helpful information out of the intruder. What surprised Carson was that he hadn’t put much effort into it. When the injured man had recognized Mr. Morcos, he’d erupted with a terrified outburst. Carson might not have known the language, but he understood a man pleading for mercy when he heard it and he was shallow enough to appreciate the fear contorting the intruder’s features.
Morcos hadn’t been moved. The man’s cold stare had promised retribution rather than understanding as the paramedics were finally allowed to wheel their patient away.
Neither Eva nor Ross showed concern for the situation and Carson reminded himself it wasn’t his business. And as long as Mr. Morcos took his revenge elsewhere, it wasn’t a sheriff’s department problem.
No, this was a Cypress Security problem. And an FBI problem, he added when Nichols came rushing in a few minutes later.
Carson pointed toward the den and went back to the cleanup.
He felt terrible that Ruth’s Santa Claus cookie jar had been killed in action. The colorful pieces of ceramic and broken cookies made a sick sort of kaleidoscope, swirling with the glass from the window as he swept up the mess.
Maybe one of the women in his family would know where to find a replacement.
The radio at his hip crackled again and he jerked. His reaction irritated him, even though he knew it was typical to be edgy so soon after a fight.
“There’s a delivery van pulling into the driveway,” the guard out front reported.
“On my way,” Carson replied. Assuming it was the new door from the hardware store, he left the debris in the kitchen to go help haul it in.
