Part 5 (2/2)
Grant nodded. ”Mike went to Indian Head earlier to test it. It'll be interesting to hear what he has to say.” He reached for the thermos. ”Ready?” Mullins shook his head while he bit into a jelly donut, ignoring powdered sugar floating down on his black tie.
As Grant refilled his mug, he continued talking about the Team's inspection of the site where the attack occurred. ”Did you see the newspaper report about a chopper going down?”
Mullins nodded as he wiped his mouth. ”You think that's 'your' chopper?!”
”Think it's too much of a coincidence for it not to be,” Grant responded, as he leaned forward. ”Listen, Scott, as requested by the President, we've gotta keep this 'close to the vest' for now. Will you be able to help without going through your chain of command?”
Mullins swallowed a mouthful of coffee and started reaching for the thermos, instead, he leaned back, hesitating briefly. ”The President, huh?” Grant nodded. ”Guess that's all the approval I need. Any idea on where you'll be going on this next 'vacation'?”
Grant put his coffee mug on the edge of the desk, then walked to a wall map. Leaning close, he tapped his finger on Russia then continued sliding it along a route leading to Afghanistan. ”Still not sure, but something's telling me this might be the place.”
Mullins squinted, trying to focus on the country Grant was pointing to. ”Whoa! Christ, Grant! That's a hotbed of real bad s.h.i.+t!”
Grant went back to the desk. ”I know, Scott, but like I said, I just suspect right now. Hope I'm wrong.”
Mullins shook his head slowly. ”And you thought your trip to China was a b.i.t.c.h! At least the whole country wasn't shootin'.”
”You're right. Only half of it was.” Grant thought briefly about the rescue mission to China.
The phone rang. ”You expecting any calls?” Mullins asked.
”No, but Frank and DJ were on surveillance. Might be them.”
Mullins picked up the receiver. ”Mullins. Yeah, he's here.” He handed the receiver to Grant. ”It's Frank.”
”Yeah, Frank.”
”Boss, uh. . .”
”Lay it on me, Frank.”
”You were right about having us set up surveillance at the emba.s.sy. We spotted some guy shoving a rolled up newspaper under the gate. He wasn't your typical newspaper boy, boss. We decided to follow him and. . .”
”Frank, don't tell me you lost him.”
Diaz cleared his throat. ”Okay, I won't.”
”G.o.ddammit, Frank!”
”The guy was good, boss. Even with all the pedestrians and traffic, somehow he 'made' us.”
Grant flopped down on the chair. ”Where'd you lose him?”
”DuPont Circle. He high-tailed it up Connecticut Avenue. By the time we made it around the circle, his a.s.s was long gone.” Grant was silent. ”Sorry, boss, but I can give you a description of the car and him.”
”Not even a plate number?” Grant asked, shaking his head.
”He was too f.u.c.kin' clever. Always managed to have somebody right behind him, hiding it. DJ couldn't even make it out with gla.s.ses.” Diaz thought it best to continue, considering Grant went silent again. ”He was driving a dark blue, '73 Z28 Camaro. And, boss, we snapped a couple of pictures of him. You're. . .”
”Where are you now?”
”Eagle 8.”
”See you in about an hour.” End of conversation.
Diaz dropped the phone in its cradle, as James asked, ”Well?”
”Well?! He's f.u.c.kin' p.i.s.sed, DJ! He's saving the a.s.s reamin' till he gets here!”
Grant clenched his jaw, as he leaned forward and began rubbing his palms briskly together in frustration.
Mullins finally asked, ”You planning on starting a fire with those hands, or you wanna tell me what happened?”
”They spotted a guy who they think was pa.s.sing a message to somebody in the Russian Emba.s.sy. They lost him in traffic.”
Mullins opened the desk center drawer and took out a yellow lined pad and a pencil from the tray. ”What kinda car was it?”
”A '73 Z28 Camaro, dark blue,” Grant answered, but he was already preparing to move forward in another direction. ”Scott, how long would it take to confirm whether or not the Russians have a plane at Dulles.”
”Would they use a major airport to move those weapons?”
Grant shrugged his shoulders. ”Why not? Especially if they claim diplomatic privilege. Besides, we've gotta start somewhere. But whether it's Dulles or not, I can't see them using a slower mode of transportation.”
”Like a boat?”
Grant nodded, with his words coming slowly. ”Right. Like a boat.”
”You're not seriously thinking that, are you?!”
”With both Russian carriers operational in the Med, yeah, that's what I'm thinking.”
”But they still have to get the weapons. . .”
Grant waved a hand. ”I know. I know. Give me time to work that out.” He got up abruptly. ”I've gotta go. Hope you can get something on that Camaro.”
”I'll let you know asap. Hey, do you have enough cash on hand?”
”Should be plenty in the safe, but I'll verify there's a good 'mix.'” Grant put on his baseball cap. ”You can reach me on the car phone or at the house.”
”Here,” Mullins said, as he put the cover on the thermos. ”And take the donuts.”
”I'll take the coffee. You keep the donuts.”
”What about Joe and the guys?”
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