All That Mattered, Ch. 12

Nobody ever knocked on the Q-Bureau door if they could help it, so when she heard the noise, Amanda’s head came up sharply. “Who is it?”

“Zeta.”

She frowned. “The door’s unlocked.”

“Thank you,” said the younger agent as she came through the door. She paused in the middle of the office, standing awkwardly. “Um.”

“Zeta, this is just like the bull pen. What’s going on?”

She took a breath. “I’m looking for Francine.”

Amanda felt her frown deepen. “She’s on leave.”

“I know that. But —” she waved a hand. “Is it all right if I — ?”

She’s terrified about something, Amanda realized. “Yes. Please do. Do you need some water or coffee?”

“No, ma’am —”

Amanda tilted her head, lowering her voice into a more soothing register. “Zeta. Since when have you called me that? It’s Amanda, or Sunlight. Now, tell me what’s going on?”

“I, ah, I have something that Francine needs to see.” Zeta was still fidgeting. “And I thought I’d find her at her apartment, but she’s not there, and she’s not here either, but down in the bull pen it’s as though something happened. Nobody will tell me what, though, and that’s what’s really not right.”

The Q-Bureau door opened again, this time to admit Lee. “That puts it mildly. What have you heard?”

“Nothing at all. The only person who was even willing to talk to me about was Mr. Tr — er, Douglas.” She stopped, clenched her hands, and then relaxed them. “I thought I saw Dr. Smyth leaving just as I was coming in, but I’m not completely sure. If it was, that’s not good, is it? Especially this early in the morning, after —” she broke off again. “I just really need to talk to Francine, and I thought one of you might know how I can get in touch with her.”

Lee’s crutches clattered as he made his way over to his desk, and he sat down behind it with a deeper-than-usual sigh. “Your usual methods didn’t work?”

“Mr. Stetson — Scarecrow — I —”

“Don’t start,” he told her, and while his tone was firm it wasn’t harsh. “There’s no way Francine Desmond is sitting around doing nothing with all this time, and she has to have a lieutenant here. The rest of it’s just logic.” He leaned forward. “What have you been doing for her?”

Zeta’s head came up. “Is it that obvious?”

Lee glanced over at Amanda, who nodded.

“Yes,” he told Zeta. “We can tell. But as long as Billy can maintain plausible deniability, it’s all right. Which,” he continued, looking back at Amanda, “is apparently the problem. I was down in Kelford’s office, and you know how they are about gossip. Apparently someone reported something to Smyth, which is why he was up there. From what it seemed like afterward, someone got chewed up pretty hard and decided to spread the joy around.”

“That would’ve been quite the temper tantrum,” observed Amanda. “But it’s not the real reason you’re here, is it, Zeta?”

She dropped her gaze. “No, ma — no, Sunlight.”

“What’s going on?” She kept her voice quiet, the way she might if she were trying to coax Jamie. “We already told you we know you’re working with Francine, so that’s not it.”

“Except it is.” Now the words came out in a rush. “Okay, okay. I went and saw her yesterday, and then Scotty and I — Francine told me not to go in alone, and that it probably shouldn’t be another agent — we went over to Jonathan’s apartment last night and it’s a mess. Except not the kind that police would leave from a search. It was something else, and whoever did it left something behind she needs to see.” She held up a plastic bag with a card in it. “This didn’t belong there. It was set up to look like it was left behind by accident but that wasn’t done quite right either.”

Amanda stood up and took the card, reading the business name out loud. “Ansar Cleaners. That’s from an Arabic word, ansār. It means ‘helpers,’ or ‘those who give aid.’” She looked at Lee. “And with the word ‘cleaners’…”

His eyes widened fractionally as he nodded right along with her. “It wasn’t an oversight. It’s a warning.”

“A warning?” Zeta’s voice had gone up a note. “Then we really need to find Francine, don’t we?”

“We do.” Lee picked up the handset on his phone but then swore softly as it slipped out of his fingers. “Damn it.” He held on to it the second time, using his other hand to punch buttons. “Yeah, Beaman. Good. I’m glad it’s you. Listen, about that pen register you have on Desmond’s phone — don’t deny it, it’s SOP — do you have one on her mobile, too?” He glanced up at Amanda, catching her eye and nodding. “Listen, Zeta and Sunlight are headed your way now, all right? Yeah, it is. Yeah, that too. Thanks.” The receiver rocked a little as he put it into the cradle, and he shook his hand out afterward. “She’s been on and off her phone for the last couple of hours.”

“Did he get traces?” asked Amanda.

“Numbers only.” Then he gave her another significant look, and she knew that he was thinking exactly what she was. “But at least one of them’s international. To France.”

Amanda was already opening the door. There wasn’t any time to waste.

---

She and Sunlight hit the Dulles Airport doors at a dead run. It felt vaguely strange to Nancy to be running ahead of Scarecrow. He was with them, but he’d stopped to request a wheelchair — and had urged them to go ahead without him rather than waste time waiting.

They skidded to a stop just past the Z gates, where Sunlight was rapidly scanning status screens. “There it is,” she said after a moment. “Air France 12 to Charles de Gaulle.” Boarding was in ten minutes, with takeoff scheduled for half an hour after that, although some of the other flights were already showing delays. “Gate A15. She’ll probably be there now.”

Ignoring the shuttles and trains, they ran to the concourse. Nancy was impressed. She had known, intellectually, that Sunlight had passed all of the same physical fitness tests as the other agents. She just hadn’t ever seemed to be the physical type. Now, as she pushed herself to keep up, she was rapidly revising her assessment. Perhaps that’s part of her effectiveness. She’s tougher than she looks.

Gate A15 was about halfway down the concourse, and already had a crowd of people outside it. Since other passengers were also hurrying to make sure they made the flight on time, their rushed arrival almost went unnoticed. Almost. There was a flash of blonde hair and a sudden burst of movement off to Nancy’s left.

“Francine!” yelled Sunlight. “Don’t!”

Francine either ignored them or didn’t hear them. With a quick hand signal, Sunlight motioned for Nancy to stay where she was while she circled around to the right. “Francine!” she called again.

Nancy’s partner looked left, then right, and then, finally, her shoulders drooped. It took a minute to wade through the crowd to her side, and by the time she got there, Sunlight and Francine were already arguing.

“— what Smyth said!” Francine was almost in tears. “He acted like Jonathan didn’t even matter especially given he hadn’t finished the mission!”

“You know that’s how he has to see it,” said Sunlight gently. “You know that, Francine.”

“No I don’t!”

Sunlight sighed, glancing over at her. “Zeta, will you go up to the stand and ask them to make sure Francine’s checked bags have been taken off the flight? Lee was going to intercept them, but chances are they were loaded before we got here.”

She nodded quickly, turning to make her way toward the counter, but there was something, off to the right, which didn’t quite look normal. Biting her lip, Nancy was careful not to look in that direction, but she slowed her progress so she could try and assess things. What had she seen?

There. Every time she took a step, the man in the leather coat was mirroring it. Yet, at the same time, he was oriented to look directly at Sunlight and Francine, even though he held a newspaper in his hands. It was open, but his grip on it was too tight to be normal.

She’d just have to trust that Scarecrow’s visit to the ticket counter would be enough to get Francine’s bags off the flight.

Raising an arm to check her watch, Nancy stopped, counted three, and then changed direction before starting to walk again. Her path would now take her in front of the man with the leather coat. As she got closer, she could see that the newspaper wasn’t written in English. That’s Arabic, she realized, although she couldn’t read it.

Just as she came closest to the suspicious man, she stumbled and went down on one knee. “Oh! Darn it. That stupid shoelace just won’t stay tied!” It wasn’t until the words were already out that she realized she had overacted. The man immediately focused on her, giving her a hard look before turning and melting into the crowd behind him.

She swore softly under her breath, and then climbed back to her feet to follow him. Fortunately, the leather coat was distinctive enough to spot quickly. Unfortunately, the man was working his way even closer to Sunlight and Francine, not even bothering to try and look casual. That wasn’t good, especially since neither Sunlight nor Francine were looking her direction. They were still arguing.

Then she saw an attendant pushing a wheelchair toward the gate, and she stopped just as she reached the main passageway. “Scarecrow!”

“Zeta?” Motioning to the attendant to stop the wheelchair, he got back up onto his crutches. “Where are Amanda and Francine?”

She was too winded for long explanations, so she just pointed. “The man in the leather coat.”

His curse wasn’t under his breath. “Get to the other side of him, right now!”

Nancy complied, noting that Scarecrow wasn’t being subtle about his approach. The crutches would have prevented it anyway.

“Amanda!” he called above the noise of the crowd.

Sunlight looked up, searching for a moment, and then locked on to him — and, a second later, to the stalker as well. A quick motion brought her gun into her hand, though she didn’t raise it yet. The stalker saw it, turned, then saw Scarecrow, both crutches in one hand, reaching for his service weapon. He turned again, and this time it was Nancy who yanked her pistol out of her purse.

There was time for a single breath. Then the stalker made his decision, launching himself toward Scarecrow.

He never saw Francine coming. Her karate chop landed hard, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Nancy hadn’t seen Francine, either, but she wasted no time scrambling over to help handcuff the stalker. Two men in security uniforms also appeared.

Sunlight showed her ID. “Federal agents. This man was stalking her.”

“Is he a fugitive or something?” asked one of the uniforms.

Sunlight sighed. “No. Just suspicious behavior.”

“I didn’t do anything!” the stalker suddenly shouted. “I was just walking!”

“Directly toward them,” Nancy added, indicating Sunlight and Francine. “And he only started moving after he’d seen me identify him.”

“There was a break in the crowd! I was hoping to get a better place in line for the flight.”

“All right,” said the other uniform, coming over and pulling the stalker to his feet. “Then you’ll need to go straight over there. Would you un-cuff him, please?”

Nancy was startled. “What?”

Francine looked like she wanted to spit fire, but she complied, her movements jerky.

She knew she should, but Nancy couldn’t keep herself quiet. “You’re just letting him go?”

It was Scarecrow who answered, with a sour look on his face. “No immediate threat now. No probable cause to continue detention.” Then he met the stalker’s eyes with a flat, angry expression. “As long as he walks away right now and doesn’t come back.”

The stalker looked them up and down. “I should press charges. But I won’t, because I have a plane to catch.” Then he strode off toward the gate stand, where the first few passengers were already being cleared onto the jet bridge for boarding. The security officers stayed until their stalker, too, was on the jet bridge. Then they left.

Francine was seething. “What in all hell are the three of you doing here?”

“I told you,” said Sunlight. “Stopping you before you got too far.”

“I’m on leave! And a trip to Paris to do some shopping is just what I need to get my mind off of things!”

“Don’t,” said Scarecrow. “Please. It’s bad enough we had to let that scumbag go before we could even question him.”

She began to argue back, but something in Scarecrow’s expression must have gotten through to her, because she stopped mid-beat. Instead, Francine sighed. “I have bags on that plane.”

“No, you don’t,” said Scarecrow. “We got them taken off for you. They’ll be waiting at baggage claim.”

“Come on, Francine,” said Sunlight. “We should go before security comes back and starts questioning us. Once they realize nobody here’s on their way to France…” she trailed off with a meaningful look.

Fresh tears appeared in Francine’s eyes. “But there are answers there. I just know it.”

“There are answers here, too,” said Sunlight, and not without sympathy. “And we’ll find them. I promise.”

Scarecrow had already waved the wheelchair attendant back over. “Come on, Francine,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

Blinking rapidly, Francine complied. Sunlight tipped the attendant and took over Scarecrow’s wheelchair. Nancy detoured back to pick up the Arabic-language newspaper that the stalker had dropped before following them.

---

Francine followed Amanda, still arguing, as the older woman walked back and forth between the kitchen and living room, bringing out cups of coffee and some snacks. “You could’ve done all this after I got back from Paris.”

“You know better than that,” said Lee from his spot on her apartment couch. “Would you sit down? You’re starting to make me dizzy.”

“I can’t.” She flung a hand in his direction. “Damn it, Lee, I won’t just sit around and do nothing while everything gets swept under the rug with ‘no further action’! Jonathan deserves —” her voice hitched. “Jonathan deserved better than that.”

Lee glanced over at Zeta, who was standing hipshot against one wall. “It doesn’t look like anything’s getting swept under the rug. Zeta’s here on her own time.”

“All right. And, Nancy, I do appreciate it.” Francine paused. “In fact, I was going to ask why you’d come back here at all.”

At that, the junior agent folded her arms, lips thinning. “Are we really going to have that argument again?”

“I suppose not.”

“Good,” said Zeta. “Because it’d waste all our time.”

“As long as I’m on leave, I’ve got nothing but time to waste.”

“Francine,” said Amanda. Her tone was as sharp as Lee had ever heard it. “You know better than that. What were you trying to accomplish, anyway? Didn’t you stop and think about what you were doing before going to the airport? It’s hardly a surprise that someone was there stalking you, you know, even if we didn’t get to question him. Whenever I’m sure one of the boys — er, ah,” and now it was her voice that caught. “Whenever Jamie’s contemplating doing something stupid, I keep an eye on him. He knows that, too, which is why he doesn’t try much. So it usually becomes a waiting game, trying to see what happens first: him losing interest, or me losing patience. Based on what you’re telling me about Dr. Smyth, I think we’re closer to the ‘losing patience’ than we are to the ‘losing interest.’ And that goes back to my first question: what were you trying to do?”

Francine had finally stopped pacing; now she stood, swaying, on the border between the hallway and the living room. “I just wanted answers. And the letter —” now her face crumpled. “He sent it to me from Paris.”

“What letter?” asked Lee.

She began moving again, but this time, it was with purpose: she went over to the bags they’d dropped just inside the doorway. Rooting around in the smaller one, she drew out a battered envelope. “This one. He sent it from Paris. It didn’t get here until last week, but —” and then her voice failed completely.

Zeta was there almost immediately, guiding her toward the couch where Lee sat. “Come on, Francine. Sit down. What’s in the letter?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Why not?” There was no pressure in the question. This wasn’t the nervous, flighty young agent Lee had first met. Zeta was beginning to come into her own.

“I, ah…” Francine trailed off. “I couldn’t. Not yet.”

Kneeling on the floor in front of her, Zeta tugged the envelope out of Francine’s hands. “Can we do that now?”

At that, Francine lost it completely, crashing forward at the waist. Lee pulled her back up, against him, cradling her head against his shoulder as she wept. Zeta eased back onto her heels, but stayed where she was. Amanda, settled in a nearby chair, also stayed still. Lee just held Francine, letting her cry it out at her own pace. He wondered how much — if any — crying she’d let herself do before. It probably hadn’t been much.

Gradually, the tears and sobbing died down into sniffles.

“I’m sorry,” Francine whispered hoarsely. “I didn’t mean to lose it like that.”

“I’d have been more worried if you hadn’t,” said Lee.

She pushed herself up and held out a hand. Zeta gave her the envelope without argument. Then, after a deep breath, Francine slit it open and took out the folded papers inside. Her expression was mournful as she scanned their contents, but gave no indication what they might actually be. Lee made a point of not looking over her shoulder.

Then, her face pulled into a distinct frown of confusion.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Here.” Francine handed him the last page of the letter. “Under where he signed.”

There was a series of slashes, dots, and dashes. It took him a minute to realize what he was looking at. “My God. That’s Morse code.”

“Yeah. But it doesn’t make any sense.”

Lee’s memory of Morse code was rusty, so it took him a second to parse the message. When he did, he felt the blood drain out of his face as he looked up at Amanda. “It’s that Arabic word you mentioned — ansār. With just a series of numbers and letters behind it. They don’t spell anything out, but this format…” He shook his head. “It looks just like the machine keys in the data that Trent and I have been reviewing.”