Lady Death

sir,” Heinrich answered. “He died in the same raid where we killed Alvi.”
“Was Tanya or Francesca the real White Widow?” Fisher said.
“Either both, or only Tanya,” Wilson said.
“Why?”
“If she was lying about Francesca being the one to take command, it means she was in charge. Her father is the banker. Don’t argue with the lady related to the man filling the bank accounts.”
“Did we really kill Francesca Sloan?” Fisher said. “Or a double?”
“Can’t answer at this time, sir,” Wilson said.
“A double makes sense,” Layla said. “Why sacrifice a key player?”
“All right, let’s address the elephant in the room,” Fisher said. “What was the point of her coming to us?”
Layla McCarthy said, “Getting Omar Talman out of the black site.”
“Why?”
“Operation Triangle,” Layla said. “She knows more about it than she admitted. She needs Talman to complete the mission.”
“Talman escaped before we beefed up the facility,” Fisher said. “Let’s assume her arrival and disappearance was a signal to him. He acted when he did because he knew time was short. It lines up with the helicopter we spotted in the area.”
Fisher paused a moment. Heinrich typed quietly.
“What we need to find out,” Fisher continued, “is if they are still in the United States. We need to know how they plan to put Operation Triangle in motion and where they will strike, or if the plan is currently in motion. I’d also like to know why Omar Talman is so important she risked us discovering her ruse before they escaped.”
Fisher turned to Wilson again.
“What are our people in Syria doing?” Fisher said.
“Hayden and his crew are in the process of rounding up suspects for questioning.”
“There was nothing at the Sukkariyeh location?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“Where are the suspects coming from? The crew from the apartment Sloan used in Damascus?”
“Yes, sir. Most of them scattered, but two remain in Damascus at a different hideout. Hayden and the tac team are going in shortly.”
“Tell Hayden to proceed with caution,” Fisher said. “This was a set-up, and we may get the short end of the stick no matter what we do.”
“I’ll tell him,” Wilson said.
Fisher let out a heavy sigh. “This is a disaster. A lot of good men died at the black site. We were so caught up in taking down Sloan, we didn’t properly vet Tanya to begin with. She played us, and we fell for it.”
“She played me,” Raven said.
All eyes turned to Raven. He said to Fisher, “You wouldn’t have me in this meeting if you weren’t going to ask me to stay aboard.”
“You’re here,” Fisher said, “because one way or another, you’re going after her, and we can’t stop you. We might as well work together.”
“And her father is my first stop. Where do I find him?”

3
“You’re not a good boss,” Colleen Andreev said over the wireless.
“Tiger” Joe Hayden, seated in the passenger seat of an SUV, laughed. “Why is that?”
“You get to have all the fun while Freddy and I are stuck in the basement.”
“For once,” Freddy Lymann added, “Colleen is right.”
“You two sit tight. I’ll be back soon.”
Hayden glanced at the driver. Carl Johnson, leader of the Alpha Team who had collected Francesca Sloan’s teeth, raised an eyebrow. “They on your back all the time?”
“Always.”
“They know everything is on them if you get whacked tonight, right?”
“They know,” Hayden said, “but don’t want to admit it. That was their way of showing concern.”
Johnson looked like a linebacker. Thick chest, arms, neck. A formidable fighter. Scar tissue on his knuckles testified to how often he used his fists while working.
“If we have to get out of this car to do any shooting,” Johnson said, “stick close to me and you’ll go home tonight.”
Hayden couldn’t tell Johnson how much action he’d seen in his career. The operations remained classified. Johnson, a veteran CIA Ground Branch operator, had the idea Hayden spent his career behind a desk. It wouldn’t hurt to let the big man think of him as a little brother for the night. “Will do,” he said.
Hayden carried a pistol, and it was the first time in a long time he’d gone out armed. A Beretta Inox 92FS 9mm rode in shoulder leather under his left arm. Johnson had a pistol and automatic rifle.
The voice of another Alpha Team operator whispered through their wireless earbuds. “Targets confirmed inside.”
“Copy,” Johnson said. “What are they doing?”
“One’s cooking. The other is adjusting the television.”
Johnson turned to Hayden, “You ready?”
The two Islamic Union suspects were holed up in a house. The house sat in the middle of a field across the street from a school. Waiting to hit at night was a critical part of the plan. They didn’t want to strike with school in session. The Americans weren’t supposed to be in Syria. They had to stay under the radar and strike hard and fast and get away clean.
The hideout had all the markings of a trap, but the recon element of Alpha Team didn’t report any other gunmen. Why the pair dubbed Suspect One and Suspect Two remained behind, Hayden didn’t know. He hoped luck was on their side and the two men were part of continuing Islamic Union operations. Wilson’s warning remained fixed in his mind. Anything was possible.
“Let’s make some noise,” Hayden said. “Remember I need at least one of them alive.”
Johnson said, “Teams One and Two, initiate strike. We need one alive, but we’d like both without any holes.”
“Team One copy.”
“Team Two copy.”
Johnson and Hayden exited the SUV and took cover on the driver’s side. The warm night air touched Hayden’s face. Taking out the Beretta, he held it in his right hand with the hammer down on a live round. Johnson, squatting by the front tire, kept his HK416 tucked to his shoulder.
Hayden wanted to be with the raiding party, but no dice. Strictly backup. To charge across the field behind the entry meant being mistaken for a hostile and shot by his own guys.
Not part of the plan, thanks.
Loose lights hung from wires on the wooden poles around the hideout.