“This is my business,” she said with characteristic firmness.
Ridley’s eyes grew hard as he watched Carina walk to her car. He swore softly under his breath and climbed into the cab, where he made a quick call on his cell phone. He talked for a few moments and clicked off. He turned to the driver and barked: “Move!”
With Carina’s car tailing it, the truck pulled out of the warehouse complex onto the road. The vehicles wound their way through suburban Maryland neighborhoods. Carina began to relax. Ridley and his men seemed competent and efficient, almost in a military fashion. Although she didn’t like firearms, she was comforted by the fact that the movers were armed. Unlike the defenseless crewmen aboard the containership, they would be able to put up a fight.
Carina was familiar with Washington, but the surrounding bedroom communities were a bewildering maze of commercial and residential. The truck drove past shopping malls, gas stations, and subdivisions. She expected that they would eventually turn onto the Beltway or some other highway that headed into the District and was surprised when the truck pulled over in front of a convenience store.
Ridley got out and ambled back to the car.
“How you doin’, Miss Mechadi?”
“I’m fine. Is there a problem?”
He nodded. “Heard on the radio that there’s a mess on the highway leading into the city. Truck overturned and traffic’s backed up for miles. We’re going to use a back way into town. It kinda winds around, so I thought I’d warn you.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you. I’ll make sure to stay close.”
Ridley strolled back to the truck as if he had all the time in the world and climbed into the cab. The truck pulled out of the parking lot, with Carina close behind. She hadn’t heard any reports of the accident or traffic tie-ups, but maybe she’d been lost in thought. She switched the radio off and paid full attention to the truck.
The moving van turned off onto a secondary highway lined with an unbroken wall of strip malls and fast-food joints. The heavy traffic stopped every hundred yards or so for traffic lights. Carina was grateful, after a couple of miles of stop and go, when the truck’s directional lights signaled a right turn.
She was less thankful when they began to pass through a deteriorating neighborhood of seedy apartment houses and run-down commercial areas that looked as if they dated back to the Great Depression. Graffiti were scrawled on every vertical service; litter had washed up along the gutters. The unsmiling people she saw seemed stoned on drugs, as they probably were, given their surroundings.
Minutes later, they passed through an area that looked like a war zone. What had once obviously been a busy commercial area was a deserted neighborhood of abandoned stores, shut-down garages, and padlocked brick warehouses. Vacant lots were overgrown with weeds and cluttered with windblown papers.
Carina was frustrated at not being able to communicate with the truck. She tapped her car horn. Ridley stuck his muscular arm out the window and waved, but the truck showed no sign of stopping. She was looking for a wide place in the road where she could come up alongside, when the truck turned off into a potholed restaurant parking lot. The word PIZZA could barely be made out on the faded sign on the front of the dilapidated brick building.
Carina expected Ridley to come back and tell her that they were lost. When he didn’t, she became annoyed, then angry. She clutched the wheel as if she wanted to pull it off. The truck just sat there. She thought about getting out, but one glance around at her desolate surroundings told her that she was in a very unhealthy place.
She reached over to press the lock button on the door. In that instant, a figure materialized from behind an old Dumpster, opened a rear door of her car, and got into the backseat.
“Hello,” the man said in a soft, breathy voice.
Carina looked in the rearview mirror. Round eyes stared out of a baby face. She was looking at the hijacker she’d seen as she lay tied up in the ship container. She was gripped with fear, but she had the presence of mind to reach for the door handle. She felt coldness on her neck and heard a low hiss. She lost consciousness, and her head lolled on her chest.
The man got out of the car and went over to the back of the truck. He knocked on the doors, which opened a second later. The guards inside the cargo area offered no resistance when he climbed in and inspected the wooden box. He spoke into a hand radio. A moment later, a truck with a FAST DELIVERY logo pulled around from behind the derelict pizza house. The statue was quickly unloaded and exchanged for four limp bodies that were taken from the second truck.
The baby-faced man went over and gazed at Carina, thinking how beautiful and peaceful she appeared. He flexed the fingers that could still her beating heart in an instant and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. With his homicidal impulse more or less under control, he climbed into the back of the moving van. The van pulled out of the parking lot, with the delivery truck close behind.
Chapter 22
THE YUKON PULLED INTO the parking lot of a Potomac River marina and Austin got out. The second agent had been following in the NUMA Jeep. He parked the vehicle, tossed Austin the keys, and got into the SUV.
Flagg leaned out the window. “Let’s get together for lunch at Langley sometime. We can bore the crap out of Jake here with Cold War stories.”
“We were pretty dumb back then,” Austin said with a shake of his head.
Flagg laughed. “Damn lucky too.” He put the vehicle into gear and drove off.
Austin strolled along the line of boats. A few people puttered around, but otherwise the riverside was relatively quiet. He stopped to inspect a vintage motor cruiser.
The white-hulled, wooden boat was about fifty feet long, and the mahogany trim was polished to a blinding shine. The name on the hull was LOVELY LADY. A man was sitting in a deck chair reading a copy of the Washington Post. He saw Austin, put his paper aside, and rose from his chair.
“What do you think of her?” the man said.
Austin was fond of classic yachts and their understated air of luxury, which was so different from the garish display of extravagance to be found in some of the modern-day craft tied up at the marina. “Her name says it all.”
“Indeed it does.”