Read Online Hard Target by Alan Jacobson - Free Book Online Page B

the crash sites, with the lead agents remaining behind to monitor the computers.
    At first light, the NTSB team working through the night completed an aerial survey that identified three distinct debris fields, the first and most distant one containing a majority of the Stallion’s fuselage, the second containing portions of the Black Hawk’s tail rotor, and the third consisting of what was left of the vice president’s chopper.
    The stench of burning brush, smoldering metal, and incinerated bodies hung on the thick, hovering mist.
    DeSantos met Uzi as he climbed from his Chevy Tahoe, which Uzi parked at the perimeter of Crash Site C, the resting place of the VP’s helicopter. “We’ve got three areas to cover,” Uzi said.
    “I’m dialed in. Been to the others already. And I’ve got some info for you.”
    Uzi walked with DeSantos toward a concentration of technicians, who were still scouring the wreckage. The flame retarding foam had dissipated, having done its job of suffocating the fire and superheated residue. Without the sudsy film blanketing the site, the debris scene was like an ancient city freshly unearthed by archeologists: what now lay bare before the investigators provided a more complete picture of what had happened. String grids divided the site into sections, enabling the technicians to document the exact location where each piece of evidence was found before being removed to the lab for analysis.
    “That chick you wanted me to check out,” DeSantos said. “Name’s Leila Harel. CIA, Counterintelligence.”
    Uzi stopped walking. “The one with the body? CIA?”
    “So I’m told. Her family’s from Iraq but they moved to Israel to escape persecution. She speaks Farsi and Arabic fluently—”
    “Probably how she got recruited in the first place.”
    “Exactly.” DeSantos dodged a technician approaching on the run and shifted right, out of the path of other oncoming workers. “First posting was in Jordan. She did well, and now she’s stateside.”
    “What do you know about Earl Tasset? What’s he all about?”
    “Real piece of work. Quiet, passive aggressive. People have a tendency to underestimate him, think he can be pushed around. But underneath it all, the guy’s a pit bull. He and Knox have squared off more than Tyson and Holyfield. Results were usually the same. Both came out bloodied, but Knox won. Tasset’s career CIA, worked his way up. Good strategist.”
    “So what’s the friction with Knox about?”
    “They’re sharks feeding off the same food chain, boychick. When there’s enough food— money for their budgets— neither cares how much each one eats. But when things tighten up, they start circling each other in the water, nibbling at each other’s blubber. Sometimes it gets bloody.”
    Uzi snorted. “Nothing like uniting against a common enemy.”
    “They’ll be okay. They know what they’re doing. And I can tell you they’re both committed to getting the job done.”
    They stepped around a roped-off grid and passed a couple of technicians collecting a soil sample. “Knox gave me nine days to find out who’s responsible.”
    “Nine days?” DeSantos stopped along the edge of the crime scene. “Doesn’t sound like Knox.”
    Uzi took up a position to DeSantos’s right. “Meaning what?”
    “Could’ve come from on high. Don’t get me wrong, Knox wants answers as fast as the next bureaucrat. But he’s been in the trenches with us. He knows you can’t just pick a date and say, ‘Time’s up. Give me the answer.’”
    “That is basically what he said.”
    “Gotta be a reason. Nine days... what’s happening in nine days? Not eight, not ten. Nine.”
    Uzi thought a moment. “Beats me.” He pulled out his smartphone and tapped the screen a few times. He threw his head back. “How did I not see this? International Conference on Global Terrorism.”
    “That changes things a bit. Does he think something’s going to happen during the