True Faith and Allegiance

“We don’t know that. He could have rented a car away from the airport or hopped a bus or a train to his next destination.”

“Or not.” She said, “Look, if we go to Chicago and don’t find anything, it’s still the middle of America, and we want to be ready to get to the next hit quickly. What if we relocate there, start digging around deep into the lives of these missing people? If we need to race back to O’Hare to go somewhere else we can do that, but I think we might learn something in Chicago.”

Dom looked out the window at the crime scene a block away. The JTTF mobile command post was a massive affair. Easily seventy-five federal, state, and local law enforcement working, as well as another fifty or so other types of antiterrorism personnel on hand. He nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s try to make ourselves more useful than just two more people walking around the scene of the last hit. There’s plenty of that already.”

Adara pulled out her phone. “I’ll call John and get it approved.”

* * *

While Chavez dealt with customs and immigration inside the FBO at Reagan National, Jack, Gavin, and Midas climbed into the G550, waiting just outside a hangar in the afternoon heat. All three men greeted the pilot and copilot, then headed through the cabin, all the way to the back, to slide their gear through the cargo door.

Firearms were already on board, hidden below secure access panels throughout the aircraft. This prevented any customs search of the men’s bags here in the U.S. turning up any curious items. Instead, Midas, Chavez, and Jack just packed like regular businessmen, albeit businessmen who packed for a certain amount of comfort in the downtime of their travel.

Gavin wouldn’t be carrying a weapon. In fact, Clark had pulled Chavez aside before they left the office and said he didn’t want Gavin touching a weapon. He’d been in the field before, and he’d done some good things, but he wasn’t a shooter.

While Gavin went to claim the long sofa in the back as his own, Midas sat in a cabin chair in the center of the cabin, and he ran his hands slowly back and forth over the chair’s arms, confirming they were, in fact, leather. Looking around, the ex — Delta Force operator was impressed with the Gulfstream. He’d flown commercial, military, and government planes through his entire career in the Army, and he’d been on several small jets in that time, but the luxury of the Hendley Associates aircraft put a smile on his face that he worried might get stuck there.

Jack noticed the man’s appreciation for the posh trimmings of the jet. “Not too shabby, huh?”

“I’m more accustomed to sitting on a pallet or in cargo netting when I fly, but I guess I could learn to live with this.”

“What are you drinking?”

Midas raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Drinking?”

Jack said, “Up until recently, Adara took care of us on our flights. Unlucky for you, you’re stuck with me. I’m a shitty bartender, so I strongly recommend beer, wine, or something I can pour in a glass without screwing it up.”

Midas said, “I’m a cheap date. First can of cold beer you can put your hands on would kick ass.”

“An excellent choice, sir.” Jack grabbed Heinekens for himself and Midas, and then a third when he saw Chavez climbing up the air stairs.

Chavez dumped his pack at the door while he moved forward to talk to Country and Helen in the cockpit. Midas grabbed Chavez’s pack and took it in the back to push it through the cabin access panel to the cargo hold.

Chavez soon came back toward the galley and took a Heineken handed to him by Jack. “Six hours in the air, a refuel at Bristol, UK, and then another three and a half in the sky. We’ll land in Bucharest tomorrow just after nine local time.”

Jack said, “I’ve compiled some info on the area around the target location, Alexandru Dalca’s apartment, and his workplace, ARTD. Also I have everything of note from the complaint by the DoJ against Dalca. It’s old information, but it will show us the skills he had before he went behind bars. I put everything in a PowerPoint, so we can put it on the wall monitors and go over it together en route.”

“Good,” Chavez said. Midas was back up with the others now. “We’ll carry subcompact pistols off the plane. Deep concealment. Low profile.”

Jack said, “From the research Gavin and I did on ARTD, they seem be a big cybercrime concern, no ties to a local mob or anything like that, so I don’t think this is going to get anything like as messy as what happened in Jakarta.”

Chavez replied, “That’s what we’re hoping. But we’ve been wrong about that sort of thing before.”

“Point taken. We go in hoping for the best but prepping for the worst.”

Chavez turned to Midas. “Ever been to Bucharest?”

“Spent about five days there doing advanced force operations for my last job. Three years ago. The AFO work didn’t amount to much, but I know my way around the city, more or less.”

Chavez grinned. “Well, then, that makes the FNG the expert.”

“FNG?” Jack asked.