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Where the dead gibbon was found. A frisson of excitement jumped along Jilly’s nerves. She didn’t have the training or field experience of a seasoned agent, but every scrap of intuition she possessed told her she was on the right trail.
“The second-largest sect is right across the state line,” Hathaway continued, “in Baltimore. It draws most of its followers from the D.C. area.” Swinging around, she clicked a few keys on her computer. “Here’s a shot of the exterior of their temple.”
Jilly studied the windowless brick building. “It looks like a warehouse.”
“It is. We’ve ascertained that the owner has no idea what goes on in his building between the hours of midnight and dawn. His night manager takes over then.”
Another click brought up a shot of a handsome man in the turban of a Sikh. Next to him was a smiling, doe-eyed female in a turquoise sari and veil.
“That’s the night manager’s wife, the current high priestess. We’ve been told she wields the knife at the altar. We hope to verify that tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“It’s the first night of the second full moon since harvest. One of their holiest days.”
“Who’s going in?”
“Special Agent Nareesh. He was one of us until he transferred to the FBI.”
“Benjamin Nareesh?”
“Yes. You know him?”
“I do! We trained together as junior FSOs.”
Her pulse tripping, Jilly got Nareesh’s number from Sandra Hathaway.
The afternoon sun had warmed the air when she emerged from State. She stood for some moments on the wide front steps, debating her next step. She really, really wanted to follow this lead on her own. If it produced results, Hawk would have to eat his objections to her lack of training and experience. Common sense and the awareness that she was part of a team had her reaching for her cell phone.
Since she hadn’t yet been equipped with one of OMEGA’s handy-dandy, supersecure communications devices, she couldn’t directly access the Control Center or any of the operatives. Instead, she dialed the number for Lightning’s executive assistant.
“Offices of the Special Envoy. How may I help you?”
“Elizabeth, it’s Jilly. I need to speak to Uncle Nick.”
“He’s still in conference, dear.”
In conference was code for upstairs, doing duty as OMEGA’s director.
“I thought he might be. Ask him to call me on my cell when he’s free.”
Her cell phone pinged moments later.
“Where are you, Jilly?”
“Just leaving State. I may have something.”
Or not. The lead was pretty tenuous at this point.
“I want your okay to accompany a friend on a visit to a temple tonight.” She couldn’t go into more detail over an open line. “I’ll brief you after the visit.”
The silence on the other end was deafening.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Lightning finally asked.
“No, but my friend does. He’s with the Bureau. His boss might call you for confirmation that it’s okay for me to ride along. Will you give it?”
Another silence, longer this time.
“Uncle Nick? Am I good to go?”
“You’re good.”
She restrained her exultant whoop but couldn’t resist punching the air with her fist.
Hours later, she huddled beside a turbaned Ben Nareesh in his darkened car. Their intent gazes were fixed on the small screen in his handheld unit. It was fed by cameras the FBI had positioned to cover the brick warehouse. Figures had been slipping through the cloudy night and into the warehouse for the past half hour.
“I still can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Nareesh muttered. “Or that my boss gave the green light. You must have some powerful contacts.”
Jilly merely smiled as Ben’s gaze swept over her, looking for a chink in her disguise.
He didn’t find one. She was draped in a silk sari she’d purchased in a downtown D.C. shop that catered to the city’s large Indian and Pakistani population. Tinted contacts darkened her eyes. Thankfully, her jet-black hair had needed no touching up. She’d parted it in the middle and fashioned an intricate series of braids that now tugged at her scalp.
“Just follow my lead,” he instructed. “And if we do find any sacrificial animals, we both stay the hell away from them.”
Ben hadn’t taken her warning about a potentially lethal virus lightly. In addition to his team of backups, he now had a crew encased in biohazard protective gear standing ready. All were prepared to move at his signal.
Jilly’s nerves were strung tight when Ben stowed his unit and shifted to face her.
“Ready?”
She hooked the silk veil across the lower half of her face, dragged in a deep breath and nodded.
“Ready.”
Hawk was huddled with a team of scientists at the Centers for Disease Control’s Washington office when a cell phone chimed.
“That’s mine.” Annoyed at the interruption, the woman opposite Hawk flipped open her phone. “Dr. Cook.”
He could tell the news was electrifying. The doc jolted upright in her chair and whipped a startled gaze his way before snapping the phone shut.
“The FBI just raided some kind of underground temple. One of the folks on the raid wanted to know if you’re still here.”
Hawk’s insides turned to ice. Jilly. That had to be Jilly.
“They found several animals being prepared for sacrifice. One of them is an extremely rare nomascus concolor. The team has the animals in isolation units. They’re delivering them to the containment lab as we speak.”
All three scientists were already out of their chairs. Hawk stayed right on their heels as they raced through a maze of darkened corridors, down three flights of stairs and through an underground tunnel to a brightly lit lab.
He’d had to accept that Lightning had given her the go-ahead to accompany this friend of hers. A thorough check of Special Agent Nareesh’s background and credentials had resolved some of Hawk’s misgivings. That, and the fact that she would just ride along. As an observer. Not a direct participant.
He was still nursing that mistaken notion when he picked up the wail of a siren.
“Stay in the observation booth,” Dr. Cook instructed as she zipped herself into biohazard protective gear. “It’s sealed off and safe.”
The booth’s glass wall gave Hawk a clear view of the team that entered the lab some moments later. Looking like space travelers in their hooded suits, the team carried plastic cages with controlled breathing units. One of the cages contained what looked like a small rhesus monkey, the other a slightly larger primate with white tufts of fur on its cheeks. The gibbon’s eyes were huge and frightened and seemed to lock on Hawk through the glass window.
“Poor babies.”
He recognized Jilly’s voice instantly but had to look twice to ID the woman who rushed into the booth, followed by a tall, slender man in a white turban.
Black mascara rimmed her eyes, which looked decidedly not blue from where he stood. A red caste mark decorated her forehead. To go with the pistachio green sari draped across one shoulder, he surmised, and sweet, cloying scent of incense that surrounded her like a cloud.
“Hawk! They told me you were still here. This is Special Agent Ben Nareesh. Ben, this is Mike Callahan.”
She paused, smiled and looked Hawk square in the eye and said, “Mike and I work together.”
Hawk got the message. In her own, inimitable way, Gillian-with-a-J had just thrown down the gauntlet. If he didn’t accept her as an equal, right here, right now, it would be war between them.
He knew he would come out the victor. He fought too dirty to be vanquished by a pampered, privileged country-club type. Except Gillian Ridgeway, for all her pampering and privilege, possessed some real smarts under that sleek, silky mane. And she had the guts to match. She’d proven that tonight.
With a wrench that took him back to a place he never wanted to go again, Hawk yielded the field and extended a hand to Nareesh. “Good to meet you.”
He couldn’t miss Jilly’s flash of triumph. It stayed on her face until she turned back to the observation window.
“They won’t hurt them, will they?”
After his session with the folks at the Center, Hawk had a pretty good idea what might happen to the primates. It wasn’t pretty.
“Depends on whether they show signs of infection.”
“If they don’t?”
“I don’t know. They might be used for testing or research. Or turned over to a zoo,” he added as Jilly’s brows snapped together.
“Poor babies,” she muttered again. “I wonder…”
Her lips pursed, and her expression turned thoughtful. Hawk had a sudden vision of Jilly showing up at the Ridgeway place with two hairy primates in tow. Maggie wouldn’t mind. He could only imagine Adam’s reaction.
“Ben, promise you’ll keep me posted on what happens to these little guys.”
Her request took the FBI agent by surprise. Obviously, he’d assumed his responsibility for the animals ended with the raid.
“I…uh…sure.”
The man was putty in Jilly’s hands.
Join the club, Hawk thought sardonically.
“Or,” Nareesh countered in an attempt to wiggle out of the charge, “you could probably get the folks here at the Center to advise you directly.”
“I could, if my partner and I weren’t leaving for Hong Kong as soon as we throw a few things in a bag.”
Enough was enough. Goaded, Hawk hooked her arm and swung her around. “Damn it, Gillian. How many surprises are you planning to pull tonight?”
“Sorry.”
Her contrite look didn’t fool him for a minute.
“I should have mentioned it right away. One of the worshippers arrested in the raid told us how the sacrificial animals were smuggled into the States.”
She paused, playing the info for all it was worth. Hawk had to concede she’d earned her moment of glory.
“They were hidden inside a shipping container packed with antiques exported from Hong Kong. The shipping agency is Wang and Company.”
Behind her tinted contacts, her eyes held only limpid innocence.
“Unless your Chinese is better than mine, Hawk, you might want to reconsider whether or not I’ll be in the way when you call on Mr. Wang.”
Chapter 3
Early the next morning, Hawk contacted the San Francisco detectives investigating Charlie Duncan’s murder. They had no witnesses, no suspects and no leads. Frustrated, he used the remaining hours before he and Jilly departed for Hong Kong to supervise her transition from one-time Foreign Service Officer and temporary executive assistant to full-fledged undercover operative.
Jilly discovered a new Mike Callahan during those hours. This one was impatient, demanding and absolutely relentless. He began in OMEGA’s training center with a crash course in down-and-dirty offensive and defensive maneuvers. Jilly was drenched with sweat and sporting several nasty bruises before she finally managed a takedown.
Hawk didn’t allow her time for so much as a smirk to celebrate. Rolling to his feet, he hustled her into the weapons facility. He’d taught her to shoot, knew she could handle the polymer-based Beretta Sub-Compact she’d carry on this mission. Still, he made her snap in a clip and shred several paper targets before he turned her over to OMEGA’s communications team.
Despite her grungy gray sweats and sweat-flattened hair, Jilly paid close attention while the team drilled her on communications procedures. Her only break came when Mackenzie Blair, Lightning’s wife and the guru of all things electronic for OMEGA and several other government agencies, marched in.
“Well, my sweet, you certainly didn’t waste any time snagging your first field op.”
“What can I say? Duty calls.”
Raking back her limp hair, Jilly grinned at the brunette she considered more of a big sister than an honorary aunt.
“How’s the baby?”
Mac rounded a hand over her prominent belly and made a face. “The little stinker sleeps all day and kicks all night. Want to see what I have for you?”
Both women instantly switched gears. Mac’s high-tech devices had made her a legend with the agencies she supplied. Jilly couldn’t wait to see what supercool, James Bondish gadget she’d come up with this time.
It didn’t look all that high-tech at first. The gold charm was pretty, though. It was in the shape of a Chinese character and embedded in a bezel of what looked like rare blue jade.
“Do you know this character?” Mac asked.
“Fu. It means good luck.” Jilly had to laugh. “Appropriate.”
“I thought so, too. This particular Fu, my sweet, just happens to conceal the world’s smallest and most sophisticated encrypted satellite communications system.”
