The Target Read online

  “I’m sorry.” Decker retreated, as predicted.

  With only an hour left, Dallas had to move quickly. She scanned the open email from Santera: I’m sorry to miss work this week. I wanted you to know that Phase I of the extended version is going well. Maybe your new assistant can look at the data.

  Was that a warning? She’d just heard the founders expressing concern about Santera and the possibility of a spy in their midst. So the timing of the message could be damaging. Or maybe Santera was trying to get her more access. She couldn’t tell. Dallas quickly scanned through a dozen more previously opened emails. Most of the addresses looked like typical business correspondence. Nervous that Decker would come back into the office with termination instructions, Dallas decided to close it up. At the last second, she opened the Sent folder for a quick peek. Decker had messaged Marta, whose email had come in earlier. A message she hadn’t opened.

  The outgoing email was brief: Something came up and I have a meeting after work. Can you pick up Amber and give her dinner? I’ll be home by eight.

  That was interesting. Decker could be seeing a lover or a shrink, but whoever it was, the meet had supposedly just come up. Dallas would tail her boss and see where she went. She logged out of email and accessed the server. She might as well snoop for as long as she could.

  At four-thirty, she closed her computer, grabbed her personal things, and headed out. She had no intention of turning in her badge yet or letting anyone escort her from the building. Downstairs, she nodded at Adrian behind the front desk, and kept moving. Outside, the sun beat down, a bright relentless weight in the sky. But it still wasn’t Phoenix heat.

  She drove around the block and parked on the street in front of Saber’s, the restaurant/lounge across the street from TecLife. Decker wasn’t likely to leave until five-thirty or six, but Dallas would keep an eye on the front of the building. Decker’s car was the silver Optima in the reserved space up front, but watching the vehicle wasn’t enough. Her target might leave on foot.

  Still in the car, Dallas pulled her hair up into a bun, put on oversize sunglasses, and changed into the T-shirt, shorts, and sandals she’d stashed just for this purpose. Another full set of clothes, including a jacket, was on the floor in back. Undercover work had taught her to be prepared.

  A man walking by stopped to watch her pull on the new shirt, and she resisted the urge to give him a mock-shock look. She was on duty, so she ignored him and he moved on. Dallas left the AC running and called River, who picked up and asked, “What have you got? It’s been a busy day already.”

  Where to start? “They just fired me. But my cover wasn’t compromised. It’s just a personnel thing.”

  “That’s a tough break. Thank goodness you got the bacteria samples last night. What else?”

  “Santera emailed Decker and mentioned me. But in a weird way, so I don’t know what it means. Still, he communicated with our targets. Have you cleared him of suspicion?”

  “Not officially. I didn’t think he was the saboteur. But then we saw that email go out and didn’t know what to make of it.”

  Dallas let it go. “We may get a break tonight. I found out that ProtoCell just accelerated its product launch and is doing a big media demonstration with their CEO. I’m not sure what it means to our investigation, but right after I told Decker about it, she set up a meeting with someone after work. I’ll tail her and see who she contacts.”

  “You’ll get photos, of course.” River let out a rare sound of nervousness. “I get the sense that this rivalry has reached a boiling point. Something big could go down.”

  “I had the same feeling today. Do we need to bring in more people to watch all the players?”

  “I’ll call King and see what resources he can drum up.”

  “Anything new on Grissom?”

  “I followed him to a meeting with a hooker last night, but otherwise no.”

  Dallas laughed. “He’s a horny beast. That’s part of why they let me go. Grissom’s wife won’t let him work with pretty young assistants.”

  “Poor woman.”

  “Any word on the bacteria samples?”

  “Not yet. Analysis takes time.”

  “I’d better go. I’m watching the building for Decker to leave.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Always.” Dallas hung up and headed inside the lounge where it was cooler and she could sip a beer.

  Decker didn’t come out of TecLife until six-thirty. At the sight of her, Dallas bolted out of her seat, so restless she’d resorted to drawing on napkins for the last half hour just to keep from exploding. She started for the door, passing a group of TecLife employees, and forced herself to slow down. Hanging back and looking casual was the secret to a successful tail. Outside, she watched Decker get into her Optima and leave the now-empty parking lot.

  Dallas bolted to her rental car, fifty yards away. Keeping her eye on the silver sedan, she cut into traffic and sped toward the intersection. The sedan turned right, and with two cars between them, Dallas followed. After a ten-minute drive, Decker pulled into a corner strip mall. Dallas sensed they were near the bay. She cruised past the mall, glancing back to see where the sedan had parked. Near a small Latin diner. She circled the block, parked on the outer edge of the lot, and trotted toward the cafe, which had outdoor seating. She suspected Decker and whoever she was meeting would be inside.

  She passed the Optima and stopped in her tracks. Decker had taken a seat at an outside bar counter. Dallas headed for the seating in front of the ice-cream parlor across the open space. She chose a table behind a potted palm, where she could keep Decker in sight without being spotted.

  After a few minutes, a woman approached and sat on the stool next to Decker. At least the person seemed to walk like a woman. Thirty or so, with a slim build on a five-eight frame. She wore a baseball cap with no hair showing, sunglasses, and a baggy shirt. Her skin tone suggested an Indian or Middle Eastern background, but Dallas was too far away to know for sure. After a moment, the woman reached over and tapped Decker’s arm, then said something Dallas couldn’t hear. She tried to read the woman’s lips. She’d taken the training, but hadn’t used it enough to be skilled. She thought she made out the word job.

  The woman gestured at the newspaper on the counter, and Decker handed it to her. Dallas’ nerves pinged and she went into high alert. This looked like a clandestine meet with someone who didn’t want to be recognized or remembered. And Decker had likely just passed her something. A payment? Should she move in for an arrest? No, it was too soon. What if it had just been a newspaper? And the two were complete strangers? The meeting might not be happening yet. A friend or lover could show up any minute and give Decker a hug. Dallas grabbed her BioTech phone and set the camera to zoom. Could she capture their faces from here?

  Probably not. She moved closer, keeping her own face averted, and snapped two shots. The bureau would use facial recognition software and, if the operative was in the database, they would identify her. If the photos were good enough. She needed to get closer. Damn. She wished she had a high-powered camera. But she was an undercover agent, not a spook. She had to travel light and realistic to the assignment.

  A young man carrying a skateboard approached. He looked clean and drug free. Was he trustworthy? If she handed him her cell phone and a twenty and asked him to discreetly take their picture, would he take off with the money and her phone? A small loss that was worth the risk.

  “Excuse me?” She stood and stepped in front of him. “Will you do me a favor? It’s very important.”

  He shook his head and kept walking. “Sorry, I’m late for something.”

  Jerk. Dallas glanced back at her targets. Decker was getting up. Shit. She needed a better shot of them together. Dallas lifted her camera as if taking a picture of the art structure in the plaza’s center, then started backing toward them. Four steps later, she turned and snapped a shot of the bar counter. Just another tourist documenting everything. As she spun
back around, she saw Decker grab her purse from the counter and leave. Good. The target had still been in the photo frame. Dallas walked away from the outdoor tables and stopped at a nearby stand that sold souvenirs.

  Now what? Instinct told her Decker would head home to her daughter. Dallas decided to stay with the operative and see where she led. Learning something about her would help the bureau put someone on her full time, maybe get a tap on her communications.

  She glanced over at the Latin diner again, and the operative was gone. Shit! Instinctively, Dallas started toward the bar counter, scanning the sidewalk. Decker, in her black-and-white clothes, was easy to spot in the distance. A group of young people moved together, taking up a chunk of the walkway. Where was the woman in the baseball cap? Had she passed behind her while Dallas pretended to be a tourist looking at T-shirts?

  She spun back around. Another group of boys with skateboards surged toward her. A nearby event must have recently ended. She strode through the crowd, with mumbled apologies. Near the end of the row of shops, she spotted a person of about the right size—‌but no baseball cap. This woman had a straight-black ponytail and carried a large bag that could be worn as a backpack. Could that be her? The pink sun, low on the horizon, wasn’t casting enough light to distinguish the shirt color at that distance. Had the woman altered her appearance as she scurried away? Dallas charged forward, remembering her own quick change in the car. Who was this operative? Most for-hire criminals were men, especially if arson or murder was involved. But the bureau had a database full of deadly women too, and this unsub was crafty enough to be an ex-agent.

  The ponytailed woman ducked between two small shops and disappeared. Dallas broke into a run. At the break in the shops, she slowed and approached the alley from a wide angle. Just in case the unsub had spotted her and was lying in wait.

  The short alley was empty. Damn, her new target was fast. Dallas raced to the end of the alley, which opened into another courtyard. A few couples and families with teenagers were eating at tables, but the operative was nowhere to be seen. The shops surrounding the courtyard were all open, and the woman could have ducked into any of them. Dallas checked the closest two but didn’t see her. Oh fuck. She’d lost their best lead. Frustration made her head pound, but she tried to appear casual. She left the clothing store and headed for her car. Where had she gone wrong? By turning her back on Decker after the meeting? By moving too slowly after finally spotting the operative? But charging after the unsub too soon could have blown her cover. What cover? She was no longer a TecLife employee. But she also didn’t want the arsonist, and maybe killer, identifying her either. Another thought hit her. Would the bureau take her off the case now? She hated leaving an assignment with a sense of failure. It didn’t happen often, but she was hoping to become a Special Agent eventually.

  In her car, Dallas accessed the last photo she’d taken. A little blurry, but Decker’s face was recognizable, so the bureau techs should be able to isolate the other image, clean it up, and hopefully ID the unsub. She sent the file to River, put in her earpiece, and started her car. Dallas called twice more on the drive home before River finally answered.

  “Sorry, I was tailing Grissom. What’s happening?”

  “Decker met with a woman who was careful to disguise herself. Decker also passed her something under a newspaper. I tried to follow the unsub after the meet, but she’s damn good.”

  “Did she know you were watching?”

  “Maybe. But I got a photo of the meet and sent it to you. Let’s see if the unsub is in our files.”

  “If she saw you, maybe we should pull you out completely. Especially now that you’ve lost your access to TecLife.”

  She’d known River would say that. “I can tail Decker when she’s not at work.”

  River was quiet for a moment. Dallas took the freeway exit and headed north to her condo.

  “Don’t beat yourself up. You got a photo of their meeting and brought us a bacteria sample. We can probably get a search warrant now.”

  “What about Santera? I think his email got me fired, so I don’t trust him.”

  “The team will meet tomorrow morning and make some decisions. I’ll talk to King and ask if you should be there.”

  “Let me know if you ID the unsub. She’s about five-eight and slender, maybe one-thirty-five with Middle Eastern skin and hair. Or the hair could have been a wig. She carries a backpack-style bag and changes appearance on the move.”

  “Age?”

  “Younger than thirty-five.”

  “She sounds like an anomaly. But we’ll get the info out to the companies she’s reportedly sabotaged and see if anyone recognizes her.”

  Dallas wasn’t ready to give up, but she didn’t know if she should share her plan.

  “What are you thinking?” River asked.

  ‘“I still have my TecLife badge, and I’m tempted to go back in after midnight and poke around some more.”

  “I thought they beefed up their security.”

  “They already fired me. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “You could get killed, remember? An agent, a warehouse worker, and a scientist are already dead.”

  “I’m too hyper to sit around until Decker gets off work tomorrow.”

  “Go for another run on the beach. I’ve got to call Agent King and get this photo to the bureau.”

  “Keep me updated.” Dallas hung up. A run was a good idea, but it wouldn’t keep her busy tomorrow. She’d have to brainstorm ideas while she pounded along the sand.

  Chapter 30

  Kiya watched the pretty woman with reddish-blond hair get into her car. Who the hell was she? A federal agent? The woman had definitely taken a picture of the counter where she’d met Cheryl Decker. Who was the operative’s target? Decker or herself? Kiya climbed on her motorcycle and waited. She wanted to go back and find the knife she’d lost leaping over the wide plant container in the mall, but couldn’t risk losing sight of the operative.

  She seemed to be texting someone. A contact at the FBI? Or did the woman work for Kiya’s ex-husband, who was now a captain in the Uzbekistan army, with access to international information? Had the bastard tracked down Martel in jail, bribed him to get her location, and sent someone out to kill or kidnap her? Kiya had shamed her husband—‌and her father—‌by escaping the marriage. In keeping with tribal tradition, either could have sworn to find her and kill her. But she didn’t believe it. They wouldn’t waste the resources. No, she was the one who’d sworn revenge. As much as she hated the man she’d been forced to marry as a child, her father was to blame. And she would soon make him suffer.

  Kiya forced herself to focus on the moment. The spying woman was likely a federal agent, which meant Decker had been stupid somehow and attracted the authorities’ attention. Until the moment that picture had been taken, Kiya had been completely in the clear on the work she’d done for Decker. Even the ProtoCell scientist she’d kidnapped couldn’t identify her. And the U.S. federal government probably wouldn’t be able to ID her either. The hat and sunglasses she’d worn would get in the way. More important, she didn’t think she was in their system, because she’d never been caught or questioned. Still, the agent had seen her and followed, and if Decker caved under questioning, the feds would come after her. It was time to get out of San Diego and follow through on her personal goal. Good thing she had a ticket already. But she wasn’t leaving any loose ends.

  The gray midsize car—‌purposefully nondescript—‌backed out of its parking space and headed for the exit. Kiya started her motorcycle, glad she’d modified her muffler to make the bike quieter. She tucked her ponytail inside her shirt, pulled on her helmet, and exited a side street, watching over her shoulder as the other vehicle headed north. Her best guess was the freeway, so she hung back, knowing she could make bold moves on the cycle to catch up if her quarry took a sudden change of direction.

  But she didn’t. Kiya followed the agent uneventfully to a complex in
the Pacific Beach area. Darkness had nearly fallen, but she could tell by the location and landscaping that they were upscale apartments. A waste of money. She parked a block away, and from across the street, watched with binoculars as the woman entered an upstairs apartment. Breaking into it wouldn’t be challenging, but the agent probably slept with a gun nearby. She would have to plan this carefully, with the limited time she had. She didn’t owe Decker anything, but keeping the federal agent from questioning her client was the best way to protect herself.

  Kiya had only killed one other person, and he’d deserved it. The stupid bastard had slammed her against the wall and squeezed between her legs, not realizing she carried a knife and the attitude that sexual predators were subhuman. Too bad she didn’t have the blade with her now. Killing the agent would be unpleasant, but Kiya would do what she needed for survival. She was tempted to warn Decker about the feds but wouldn’t risk contacting her again. They might be monitoring Decker’s phone and email.

  After a few minutes, she climbed off the bike and started to take a quick tour of the complex. The soft sound of a door opening caught her attention. She glanced up, and in the dark, saw movement at the target’s door. The woman came out, wearing what looked like shorts and running shoes. Kiya turned away, walked back to the sidewalk, then strode down the street.

  She ducked behind a palm tree and waited, trying to predict where her target would go. To the beach, of course. The boardwalk was only six blocks away, and now that it was dark, the crowd would thin out, making it a lovely place for a seaside run. The slapping sounds of a jogger indicated the agent had crossed over and was running west. Kiya waited two minutes, took a parallel side street, and parked when she neared Mission Boulevard. The rest of the job would require her to stay on foot and scout out the perfect spot for an attack.

  Trotting up Mission to where she expected the agent to cross, Kiya tried to visualize this section of the boardwalk along the beach. She remembered something big. A pier with little cottages for tourists. Perfect. She would wait under the pier, hiding in the dark behind one of the massive support beams until her quarry came along. Kiya retrieved a heavy flashlight from her saddlebag. A few hard blows to the back of her head, then drag her into the ocean and let the tide do the rest.