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Garchik said, “But this technology? With the nanobots. Are you saying drug cartels have the wherewithal to do this?”

Ashburn said, “I talked to my counterpart at DEA. He gave me a down-and-dirty lesson on the current state of the drug business. Even though the Mexicans have been muscled out by the Russians, they still have billions of dollars in cash flow. And some of the best scientists in the business to do their drug lab work. And the experts they didn’t have they could easily have hired or forced them to work on this. This is not just about bombs. Like my friend at the DEA said, if they can change the scent of bombs, they can change the scent of drugs. They can walk shit right through all our defenses. It’s a whole other paradigm at that point. A game-changer. The Border Patrol, DEA and the rest of us will be defenseless.”

“And why didn’t we know this before?” asked Riley Weaver, speaking for the first time. “I mean about Escalante’s father being in the cartel?”

Ashburn said, “Padilla wasn’t a person of interest—well, at least not for very long. We all figured him for the victim not the perp, so we had no reason to dig deeper. And even this latest report coming out of Mexico is speculative. No hard proof. We can’t legally demonstrate Montoya is behind this. At least not yet.”

Chapman said, “So they killed Carmen’s parents. Where does Padilla come in? Did he work for the cartel too?”

Ashburn responded, “Doubtful, at least from the little we know. That was another reason we didn’t dig deep on Padilla. Our preliminary inquiries turned up nothing.”

The director said, “He might have fled here to get Carmen away from them. The cartel might have discovered them here, though.”

Ashburn added, “And maybe blackmailed Padilla to work with them. Threatened to kill Carmen if he didn’t. He might not have even known he was carrying a bomb that night. Maybe he was just told when the guns started up to run and jump in the hole. The cleverest part for me is they used the deaths of Padilla and Tom Gross to their own ends, knowing that there would be a memorial service for the victims.”

“Right,” said Chapman. “They created the event they wanted to attack.” She glanced at Stone. “He already figured that one out too.”

Riley Weaver slapped his hand on the table. “Okay, that’s very interesting. But we still don’t know how the bomb was detonated. Or who their source was in this country. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the Russians. Maybe it is Montoya and the Mexicans. But they had to have a link here. There is no way they got all this done without a traitor in the ranks. If it wasn’t Turkekul, who was it?”

Finally, Stone stirred. He looked at Weaver. “The traitor is pretty obvious at this point, don’t you think, Director?”

He stared so hard at Weaver that the man finally turned red. “You better not be accusing me of—”

Stone broke in. “I take the simple answer when it presents itself.”

“Meaning what?” asked the FBI director quietly.

“Meaning it’s the only person left standing.”

The others in the room looked at him curiously.

Chapman spoke up. “Okay, you lot, the man means Marisa Friedman.”

The room became silent as each person stared first at Chapman and then at Stone. The FBI director and Ashburn looked to be in shock.

Riley Weaver appeared markedly pale. When Stone glanced at him, he turned sharply away. “That is preposterous,” he sputtered.

Chapman said, “Remember the government building used for the sniper’s nest? When Stone and I discovered that, we were very nearly killed. There were a number of red herrings they wanted us to find out, to point the finger at the Russians. But the connection to the government building was not one of them. That was the one thing they didn’t want us to connect to all this. Why? Because it had to be someone who knew about that building. It had to be someone who could gain access to that building. It had to be someone on the inside.”

Stone pointed at Weaver. “On your side. Someone like Friedman.”

Weaver started to say something but then just sat there glaring at Stone.

“And Friedman was at the park that night. She could have detonated the bomb using her cell phone after she left. She was on the east side of the park away from the shooters. And she could have been the one to phone Turkekul and lure him out to be shot along the GW Parkway, while she was pretending to work with us to nail him and whoever he was working with. If you recall, it was Friedman who made the initial discoveries about Turkekul, which led to all of you suspecting him of being a mole and a traitor in the first place.”

“And,” said Stone, looking at Weaver again, “she was dismissed by the intelligence service because of her complicity in Turkekul’s death. Which gave her the perfect opportunity to retire from the field with no questions asked. She played all of us perfectly.”

“You have no proof of that,” growled Weaver.

Ashburn spoke up. “Director Weaver, have you tried to get in touch with Marisa Friedman lately?”

All gazes swiveled to the NIC chief.

He said defensively, “I had no reason to try and reach her.”

“I would suggest that you now do have a reason,” said the FBI director firmly.

Weaver slowly pulled out his phone and drilled in a number with his thick index finger. Five, ten, twenty seconds went by. He left a message for her to call him.

He put away his phone. “Okay, she didn’t answer her phone. That proves nothing.”

“But if I’m right,” said Stone, “what do you think she’s doing right now?”

“Running like hell,” said Chapman.

“If you’re right. And it’s a big if,” replied Weaver.

The FBI director said to Ashburn, “We need to find Friedman. Right now.”

“Yes sir.” Ashburn picked up her phone and left the room.

Weaver shook his head and looked at the FBI director. “We cannot simply accept this man’s word for it. Friedman was one of the best field agents I’ve ever worked with.”

“I think she’s actually the best,” said Stone. “The only problem is she’s not working for us anymore.”

“Well, if you are right then she’s probably long gone,” said Weaver. “She would have her exit strategy down to the last detail.”

Stone turned to him. “She would, except for one little thing.”

The man looked contemptuously at him. “Really? And what’s that?”

“The presidents are still alive. Which means she failed. I doubt her employer is too happy about that. But it also gives us a shot at getting to her.”

CHAPTER 88

SEVERAL HOURS LATER they had a lead on Friedman. They were all still at the WFO when Ashburn came back into the conference room waving a piece of paper.

“Visual ID on Friedman getting on a train bound for Miami from Union Station in Washington. We checked the passenger manifest. She’s traveling under an alias, obviously. No Friedman on the list. Guess that confirms her complicity.”

They all looked at Weaver, who sat sullen-faced in a corner of the room.

Ashburn said, “I take it she never called you back, sir?”

Weaver didn’t even bother to answer.

Ashburn said, “Miami makes sense. She’s presumably working for a Mexican cartel. She gets to Miami and hops on a private plane headed west to Mexico. And her taking the train was a smart move. She probably thought we’d expect her to use wings to get away fast.”

Stone looked a

t Ashburn. “Visual ID? Did someone actually see her?”

“We have surveillance cameras set up at all the airports and train


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