The Gray Man Ch. 21 - Isabella

When the three left The Ryan on Sunday Gray looked at his cousin. "Brunch?" he asked gently.

Gretchen was embarrassed. Embarrassed at how much her cousin was getting to know about her past, embarrassed by her overly sexual ways in college and law school, embarrassed by how turned on she was to suck her own cousin's dick.

She looked up at Gray, "I'm going to take a raincheck, the past 18 hours have been a lot and I have a lot to process."

TJ looked at his cousin, "Hey, nothing changes. We fulfilled the contract. That's it."

Tears filled her pale blue eyes, "Is it though, Teej? Was that all we did? What if the next time the client wants MORE." She closed her eyes as her brain raced with the thought, 'WHAT IF I WANT MORE.'

TJ reached out and gently touched her face. An act of gentle love and concern, but on a sunny Washington, DC street at 11 in the morning, looked to passersby like the forlorn touch of two lovers - and was it?

Gretchen tried to smile, "I need to go."

TJ watched as Gretchen got into her Uber and drove off into the late morning autumn day. The sports bars in the area were opening up to welcome in the crowds anticipating the Commanders 1:00 kickoff from Miami.

TJ walked south down Capital Street past Nationals Park to The Salt Line Oyster Bar. The Salt Line is bustling on this autumn morning, filled with the chatter of patrons enjoying their meals. Gray passed two opportunities to be seated so that he could sit in a corner booth, his back to the wall, keeping a watchful eye on the room.

He was always careful, but following the incident with Anastasia and Pavel, and realizing the price that Nazir had put on his head was pushing over 3 million dollars, he was being extra careful. He was fighting the fight or flight syndrome that came when a field agent had been too deep for too long, like he was with Aziz Omar just before his capture.

To the other diners, Gray looked as if he was casually sipping coffee as he waited for his Steak and Eggs to arrive. A trained observer would have noticed that his gaze scanned the room discreetly.

Gray's instincts had saved his life countless times before, and today they were on hyper alert. As his eyes wandered the crowd he caught a glimpse of a young woman dressed in traditional Muslim attire, her face partially concealed by a hijab. Something about her behavior piqued his interest.

The woman moved with a sense of purpose, her eyes darting from table to table. She seemed inconspicuous, blending into the crowded restaurant, but Gray's trained eyes detected the subtle signs of unease in her demeanor. He noticed her hand frequently reaching into her bag, her grip tightening momentarily, then loosening.

Gray could feel the adrenaline begin to flow through his body, his heart rate elevated and he fought to calm his breathing. His hand slipped inside of his jacket to rest on the handle of the H&K P2000. The last thing he wanted was a gunfight in a crowded restaurant during Sunday brunch, but the woman kept making her way closer to his table.

Gray watched as she edged even closer to a nearby table, where a group of women are engaged in a laughter filled, animated conversation. He narrowed his gaze, searching for any sign of a concealed weapon or suspicious behavior. But to his surprise, the woman's hand emerged from her bag holding a notepad and a pen. She approached the table and politely asked for an autograph from one of the women sitting at the table, her anxiety melting away as a smile graced her lips.

Ghost took a deep breath to cleanse the stress from his system, allowing his muscles to relax and his heart rate to regulate. He leaned back in his booth, allowing himself to relax for a moment. The adrenaline rush subsided as he resumed his brunch. He mumbled to himself something his mom would tell him before track meets in high school, "You are wound way too tight Paddy, breathe and be." That was soon replaced with an old adage from his training days, "Paranoia is bad, but in the world you live paranoia is necessary.

Gray walked into the office on Monday feeling pulled in many different directions. Nazir, Operation Dragonfly, the fact that his cousin sucked his dick and he really, really enjoyed it.

He knew he had to focus on one thing. He decided that Underwood and Barnett would let him know more about Dragonfly when they had the information. He really couldn't do anything about the awkward new reality with Gretchen. That meant Nazir.

He called Greg and Amber into a conference room for an 8:30 update. He wanted to zero in on Fatima. When they walked in, they saw the box from District Donuts and smelled the coffee from Bourbon Coffee in a carafe on the table.

Amber, whose hair had gone pink this week smiled, "You are a good boss, Daddy."

Gray looked at her, "Pardon?"

Amber winked at him, "Nothing. I mean, did I really say that out loud?"

When Greg, the analyst on loan from the CIA, walked in he paused, "Uh Oh - Donuts and Coffee, looks like it's a long day."

Coffee was poured, donuts were taken, computers were fired up when Gray looked first at Amber. "3 in 3," he said.

Amber nodded, familiar with her boss's way to open a briefing. He wanted 3 things in 3 minutes. The wall display lit up, "First, I hacked into Box 500 and The DST databases and it seems as agents in both have put forward that perhaps Ahmed is a bit more than just a watchdog and bodyguard for Fatima. Second, I was wondering why Glasgow. A few reasons. Diverse city, culturally accommodating, simple security, anonymity. It seems in Paris Fatima and Ahmed are regularly seen out and about, when they are in Glasgow their profile dips immensely."

Greg spoke up, "I have a question about that."

TJ nodded at Greg, "I have a theory. Go on Amber, what's your number three?" Grays meeting rules were everything was put on the table, then they could retrace steps back to questions.

Amber brought up another split screen image. Two buildings were side by side. When she spoke, "Make no mistake, Nazir has money. The building on the left is Fatima's apartment building in Paris - exactly what one would expect. Top floor, marble everywhere. True high end luxury." The building on the left looked like a brick fortress that was only 4 stories tall. "Again, Glasgow is the outlier, her apartment here is in the rear of the building and on the first floor. Private entrance in an alleyway."

TJ jotted down a note for the question time before turning to Greg, "Your turn," he said simply.

Greg pulled up an image of a web page. TJ's stomach dropped a bit when it came on the screen. Greg spoke, "Found this on a dark web message board used by Nazir's followers." It was a picture of TJ with Arabic writing. Greg continued, "It seems after Anastasia and Pavel's failure the price on your head is now 5 million."

TJ took a deep breath, "Nice to know he remembers me. What else."

The next image was a satellite image of new construction on the border of Pakistan and Afghanistan. Greg pointed to a couple of the trucks then brought up another image before returning to the first. "The sat image guys think this is a new compound being built by Nazir. Unsure if they are leaving the first one and moving to the second one or if this one is brand new. Something for us to keep an eye on."

The third image was a street view of a villa/compound. Greg used a red laser pointer to point to the image, "Some believe that this is also being used by Nazir. It's a compound in Attabad. Only one mile from where Bin Laden was hiding when the SEALS got to him."

Gray rubbed his temples, "Greg, you first. Questions. We need to know if Nazir is using Attabad and what he's planning. You don't go to the neighborhood of Osama Bin Laden without a purpose. You want to be noticed, associated. Nazir does nothing without a reason. We need to find out what is going on. Second item. If he is in that compound it changes things drastically. He will be harder to track between three places without boots on the ground, an operation will be more than just one or two of us sneaking through the mountains. Hell it took an entire TEAM 6, Marine units, Rangers, CIA teams and SOAR. Going into a foreign country is a huge political gamble that involves POTUS. We need more than a price on some guy's head to run an operation like this to that level."

TJ poured another cup of coffee before turning to Amber. "First, hacking into the databases of allied intelligence agencies carries a political risk that I am sure you are aware of."

Amber nodded, "Faster than going through official channels, plus I was in and out before they knew what was going on. Just a peek and go, dad.." she blushed, "Boss."

TJ nodded and decided to play the game, "Good girl," he said with his traditional smirk. He turned to Greg, "You had a question?"

Greg nodded, "Actually boss, Amber answered my question in her third point. I couldn't figure out why Glasgow. Not a particularly common spot for Afghani Warlords to frequent."

Gray nodded, "It's actually a good question. I wondered too, however, I also have a theory. The lower level fortress means that it's more than just a convenience. I had a theory about that then my theory grew to a suspicion. Why a city like Glasgow? Why would a new bad guy want a high profile place like Attabad?"

Greg responded, "Places like that attract jihadist's."

TJ smiled, "Exactly. So, why Glasgow? Why a ground floor with a private entrance in an alleyway?"

Amber spoke up, "Easier to move about a city like Glasgow more anonymously."

The Boss nodded, "Exactly, but there may be more. What if, and again, this is just theory. What if Nazir is planning something on a Bin Laden 9/11 level in London? Instead of planes he uses vans or trucks with regular or dirty explosives. Being part of the United Kingdom there may be random checks, but not a hard border crossing like into Mexico or Canada."

Greg sat back in his chair, "Holy Shit. Is that enough to run up the chain, Boss?"

Gray nodded, "Yeah, briefing the Admiral is like two old friends in many ways. My guess is if we find anything to back up the theory, we will be briefing folks much higher up the food chain than the corner office on the 4th floor."

Amber flushed, "How... how high up?"

TJ shrugged, "Could be SecDef, could be CIA director, could be as high up as 1600 Pennsylvania. Depends on what evidence we can attach to theory."

Amber smiled, "What color should I have my hair for the President?"

Greg shook his head, "Maybe it's natural color."

Amber laughed, "Haven't seen that since I was a senior in high school. Live a little and loosen up Mr. CIA."

TJ chuckled, "Back to work kids. Amber, can you put both of y'alls images into a presentation file for me. I need to talk to The Admiral." Before he left TJ turned to ask one more question, "Where are the lovebirds currently, do we know?"

Greg nodded, "Yeah we do. They are in Attabad."

TJ whispered, "Fuck," as he walked out of the meeting room and took the stairs up two flights to the sixth floor. The door opened into the foyer just outside of the outer office for Admiral Barnett. Gray walked in and saw Chief Master Sergeant Elizabeth Johnson diligently at work trying to organize the Admiral's schedule, Underwood's travel, among other things.

Gray smiled, "Chief, I need some time with the old man whenever he's got a few minutes."

The Chief nodded, "Office of SCIF?"

Gray didn't hesitate, "SCIF"

Elizabeth Johnson smiled, her green eyes twinkling. "Mr. James, you are a shit magnet. All the bad shit seems to find its way to you."

TJ teased, "That's Sergeant Major, Chief and maybe it's me who is attracted to shit and not the other way around."

Liz rolled her eyes, "Didn't know you were into that type of stuff."

Gray winked, "There is a lot about me you don't know."

Chief Master Sergeant Johnson smirked, "Oh, I can find out." Before Gray could give a retort she said, "Admiral is at Puzzle Palace until 1300. He has a meeting with the heads of NCIS, CID, and OIS at 1500. I will make sure you can see him in between, I'll text you when he is boots on the ground."

Gray gave a polite bow, "Roger that Liz, I owe you. By the way, Go Army - Beat Air Force."

At 2:15 Gray's phone buzzed. He looked down to find a message from Liz. "He's here."

Gray again headed up the stairs, popping out of the stairwell just like a few hours before. Liz nodded her head, "Admiral is in Ops. He's in a mood."

Gray strode into the Operations Center. The room was adorned with maps, surveillance screens, and an air of urgency. This was where decisions were made, where lives were saved.

"Admiral," Gray said, his voice steady and resolute. "The team has been pulling some threads on Nazir. Got something you might be interested in."

Steven Barnett looked tired, "Big?"

Gray nodded, "My gut tells me an attack on London."

The Admiral's jaw tensed, "We don't work on guts, Sergeant Major."

TJ put his hands out. "But, that's why you hired me. My instincts and my instincts are screaming at me."

Admiral Barnett gestured for Gray to lead the way into The Op Center SCIF where nobody else could hear the conversation. When they entered the room Admiral Barnett's brows furrowed, his eyes drilling into John's. "Go on, let me hear it."

Gray pulled out a print out of the intel Greg and Amber had gathered and slid it across the desk. He briefed him on who Fatima and Ahmed were, their relationship to Nazir and the new compound believed in Attabad. "We've been tracking Fatima and Ahmed, trying to find an angle to get to Nazir thinking they were simply in Europe to be protected from the realities of being a warlord's family these days."

Barnett nodded, "You and pulling strings," he whispered as he leafed through the documents.

Gray nodded, "My gut tells me they are more than just family members." He pointed to the picture of the residence in Glasgow. Sir, they could afford to live anywhere, the apartment in Paris 35000 francs a month, just under 6 grand US. The apartment in Glasgow is 1000 pounds, about 1200 US. Not only that it has a private entrance on an alleyway. They are up to something. Plus with Nazir moving down the street from where Bin Laden lived. Sir, I don't believe in coincidence."

The Director leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in deep thought. "Do we have any specifics, anything?"

TJ shook his head, "We are digging. What I do know is that Ahmed and Fatima are currently in Attabad with Nazir.

Barnett nodded, "It's time to do what you do Mr. Gray."

Gray cocked his head, "Analyst stuff or Ghost stuff?"

Steven Barnett chuckled, "I have analysts Sergeant Major, I need you to do what it is you do. Get eyes on the target the minute they leave Pakistan and find out what the hell is going on."

Ghost looked puzzled, "Not sooner, Sir?"

The Admiral pulled his glasses back on which was a signal that the meeting was over. "Dig here to try to find something, anything we can take to our counterparts at MI-5. We aren't going to raid Nazir like we did Bin Laden, at least not yet. I'll get eyes on them in Attabad, you showing up that close to Nazir is going to lead to fireworks, don't want before it's time."

TJ nodded, "Aye Aye, Sir. Any updates on Dragonfly?"

Barnett let out a small groan, "Underwood is ass deep in alligators. Having us poke around at Langley and Foggy Bottom is ruffling some feathers."

Gray nodded, "I'll keep you posted, Sir."

Gray had a lot of things to cover before he headed to Paris, Glasgow - or perhaps both. His burner phone buzzed. The only person who had that number was Gretchen. He had hoped this meant the awkwardness was over. He was wrong.

Instead he received an encrypted file. When he opened it he saw a dossier from a potential client.

Isabella D'Angelo - Circuit Court Judge - 42 - divorced - Graduate of Georgetown Law. She wanted to contract to be abducted by 2 men, taken to a warehouse, humiliated and forced to serve.

Gray flipped to the next page expecting to find more details and information. Instead Gretchen had written, "Remember back in Michigan when this journey began I said there may be times I need you to accept a contract and make sure you get leverage for me? This is one of those. I need something to hold over this bitch's head."

Gray texted, "I do remember, but I'm only 1 man."

Almost immediately the phone buzzed, "Mark."

Gray fired back, "No fucking chance."

TJ could read the tone of the next text. "Fine. Do you have any ideas?"

Gray thought long and hard. "How much does Mark know?"

Gretchen replied, "Everything. He was in the car when The Admiral mentioned your side hustle. He asked me one night and I told him."

TJ was pissed, "Jesus Christ, this is my life - my best friend - one of the best friends of Angela - my fucking teammate in the field."

Gretchen fired back, "Who you had no trouble letting watch you fuck that chick in Finland - he told me about that too."

Gray was in no mood. Actually, he was angry. Not the pissed off rage like he wanted to put his hand through a wall, but the cold anger that didn't dissipate easily. "Fine, Mark - Friday. Get me her schedule."

Gretchen quickly wrote back, "Yep."

TJ's email dinged again. He opened the encryption to find a picture of Isabella DeAngelo along with a bit more of a biography.

Gray noted her almond-shaped hazel eyes that exuded a sense of both warmth and intensity.Raven-black hair, cascaded in loose waves around her shoulders. Her hair framed a perfectly sculpted face that accentuated her high cheekbones and graceful jawline. Her slender figure which in the picture showed her with her hands on her hips carried an air of confidence and poise.

The rest told of a painful divorce, feeling stuck in her career and her life and needing to do something to reboot. Her fantasy read like something from a romance novel. She wanted to be abducted, ravaged, and left broken by two men who role played being men she had sent to prison.

Gray closed the file and tried to get his brain back to his team and get back to work. The clock was ticking.

The week continued with frustration after frustration for TJ and the team. Every lead they thought they could follow ended with a dead end. He was still in the office when Mark poked his head in, "Time to rendezvous Ghost."

Gray looked at his friend, "Are you sure you're up to this?"

Mark smiled, "I get to fuck a hot Italian judge, my girlfriend arranged it, and the good judge will have no idea who the hell we are. Win/Win my friend." Mark thought for a minute, "Besides, how many times did you spot for me when I was sniping? How many bad guys have we had to eliminate over the years? This is child's play."

Gray rolled his head and listened to every vertebrae in his next pop, he shrugged his shoulders and looked at his friend, "Yeah. Did Gretchen tell you why she needs something nefarious on this woman?"

Mark nodded, "She did. Gretchen KNOWS that dear Isabella is on the payroll of the defendant in a trial coming before her court. She just can't prove it. She wants the leverage to make sure that justice is done. Gretch thinks the fear of being exposed for her kinks will be enough for her to shoot straight in the trial."

Gray shook his head, "Just like the Supreme Court. Jesus, to think that we put our lives on the line so corruption could reign supreme."

Mark tossed Gray a balaclava. "Let's go tip the scales of justice brother."

It was a cold rainy autumn evening when Isabella walked down the marble stairway of the courthouse. Her Christian Louboutin shoes clicked as she walked down the alley to the parking garage.

The alley was secured, only authorized delivery vehicles could gain access. As Isabella came closer she paid little attention to the van, or the man leaning against it. TJ smirked as she walked closer, feeling completely safe because of the gates and cameras.