Chasing the White Lion James Hannibal (essential reading TXT) 📖

covered the senator’s personal security guard. “Weapon down! Weapon down! Put it away!”

Any Capitol security man worth his salt would have ignored such commands from a man in an overcoat and flatcap, but Talia and Tyler were not alone.

Red and blue lights flashed. Sirens wailed. Black sedans sped into the circle from P Street and Massachusetts Avenue. Twenty plainclothes FBI agents and two CIA liaisons rushed out from their hiding places, all shouting at the same time.

Jordan retreated toward the Metro, but a pair of plainclothes agents blocked her path.

The senator’s security man placed his weapons on the ground, both his primary and his backup, and slowly straightened, hands in the air. Watching him, a few frightened pedestrians also raised their hands, but they were yanked away to safety by local uniforms.

Only Senator Ramirez had the audacity to fight back. “Do you know who I am? Senator Daniela Ramirez, chair of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence.”

“Back off, Senator.” Talia kept her Glock trained on Jordan. “This doesn’t involve you.”

“I’d say it does. Mary Jordan is a good friend. We’re on our way to dinner.”

“Mary Jordan is a traitor. And she’s on her way to jail.”

As one FBI agent slapped on the cuffs and another read her Miranda rights, Jordan glared. She didn’t let the agent finish reading from the card. “You’re going down for this, Talia. I opened an investigation into your activities”—she thrust her chin at Tyler—“and his. This stunt is nothing more than a delay tactic.”

“Oh, it’s more than a tactic.” Talia returned the Glock to its holster. “We have proof you traded criminal favors for intelligence.”

Jordan laughed. “Standard Agency protocol.”

“Not this time. Your operations were personal, unsanctioned. And one involved an attempted missile attack against this very city.”

Several FBI agents glanced her way. Apparently they hadn’t read the entire brief.

Talia ignored their questioning looks. “We have Alexi Bazin. It’s over.”

Jordan played it cool, refusing to react. “I don’t know any Bazin. All you have is his word against mine. You’d better come up with something more definitive, honey.”

“You think I haven’t? Tyler’s people were on to Boyd’s encrypted network before Volgograd. We couldn’t quite crack it, but after gaining access during our infiltration into his black-market competition, we pulled a ton of data. We got everything.”

“For instance,” Tyler said. “We found an order dating back one week, in which Boyd had a syndicate member bring down half the traffic cams on Route 123. On the same morning, the syndicate dispatched a Bratva hitman to take out Officer Inger. That was enough to raise eyebrows at the Bureau.”

“You’re talking about communications that have nothing to do with me. You’re reaching.”

Talia shook her head. “He wasn’t finished. We knew we needed to connect you to the syndicate. Yesterday, while I was still inside, the Jungle syndicate received a message warning that CIA operative Vera Novak had infiltrated the White Lion’s game, including a picture. The message came from Cobra One Four Seven. You’ll remember him as Oleg Zverev.”

Tyler gave Jordan an Ooh that hurts cringe. “You should have notified your pal Bazin that Oleg was dead. With no body, the Russian cops never got involved. Word never got out. Bazin opened our photo file, and with it, he unleashed a virus engineered by Specialized Skills Officer Eddie Gupta.” He glanced back. “Eddie, come over here.”

The geek peeked out from the rear doors of an unmarked van. “Really? I thought you might leave me out of this, just in case it goes south. Then I’d, you know, still have a job.”

Talia rolled her eyes. “Eddie . . .”

“Okay, okay. I’m coming.”

“SSO Gupta’s virus permeated the account,” Tyler said. “It replicated itself and latched on to all outgoing files, including a new photo of Talia at the Frenzy, which Bazin sent you when he sought confirmation of the tip. The virus is dormant, but SSO Gupta can activate it at will. Would you like a demonstration?”

Jordan had no answer. She looked away.

The FBI commander raised a hand. “I’d like a demonstration.”

“So would I.” Across the street Senator Ramirez raised a hand as well, a skilled politician distancing herself from a bad association. “I’d like one very much.”

Eddie unlocked his tablet and tapped the screen twice.

Immediately, Talia heard quiet laughter—the deep, disturbing laughter of the White Lion. Voices chanted, The law of the Jungle, kill or be killed. They came from Jordan’s direction.

One of the agents reached into her pocket and drew out a smartphone. He put it to his ear and shook his head.

Jordan’s flat expression twisted into a smirk. “That’s my phone. No virus.”

It was a desperate move. Talia gave her a look of exasperated disappointment and nodded to the agent. “Try the other pocket.”

He did, and pulled out a second device, screen flashing. Free of the heavy coat, the laughing and chanting filled the square. Eddie tapped his tablet, and the phone went dark. The deep, laughing voice, dying, had one final statement to make.

Game over.

The FBI commander spun Jordan and shoved her toward one of the sedans. “I’d say that’s plenty definitive.”

CHAPTER

EIGHTY-

THREE

RUSSIAN EASTERN EUROPEAN DIVISION

CIA, NEW HEADQUARTERS BUILDING

LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

A BLUELIGHTFLASHED from one of REED’s black marble pillars.

Manila cardstock sheets marked with red and orange classification stamps covered every stack of paper and were taped over every computer screen.

All work had come to a screeching halt.

When the parade of black-uniformed officers—the Agency’s Security Protective Services—arrived, Trevor announced their coming with the call, “Uncleared! Uncleared!” like a medieval crier calling Unclean! as a leper enters the village.

Such measures had not been taken at the Directorate since the fall of Harold James Nicholson twenty years earlier.

The security officers carried sealed and marked file boxes out of Jordan’s office for delivery to the FBI. Talia’s fellow case officers had done the boxing and sealing, since Security Protective Services personnel were not cleared for Directorate operations—hence the extraordinary measures during their visit.

Talia had received a great big hug when she stopped for coffee on the way in. Luanne came