Honorable Lies (A Titus Black Thriller Book 6) Page 9

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  She ignored his question, instead pulling a photograph out of her purse and placing it on the counter. “Have you seen this man lately?”

  Moshe picked up the picture and studied it for a moment. He shrugged as he handed it back to her.

  “Nothing?” she asked.

  “He doesn’t look familiar.”

  She stuffed the picture into her purse. “In that case, don’t move. I need to make a call. We’re going to execute this warrant. And after I’m done, I’m going to let a few people know about this little enterprise you have going here.”

  Moshe grunted and held out his hand. “Let me see that picture again, please.”

  Jana dug it out and handed it to him again.

  He stroked his chin and nodded. “On second thought, I might have seen him recently.”

  “How recently?”

  “Mmmm, yesterday, I believe.”

  She glared at him. “You believe?”

  “No, I’m certain that it was yesterday.”

  “And you gave him a passport?” she asked.

  “It’s possible that he found a passport lying around my shop and took it.”

  “The name on this passport?”

  Moshe squinted and shook his head. “I’m not quite certain what the name was.”

  She stuffed the picture back in her purse and pulled out her phone.

  “What are you doing?” Moshe protested.

  “I’m calling in the team to execute the warrant,” she said. “You were helpful, but not compliant. And there are consequences for not aiding a federal agent.”

  “But I—”

  “You gave me no new information,” she said. “And now, you leave me no choice.”

  “Oh, wait, it’s coming to me. I think it was Isaac Goldstein.”

  “Think or know?”

  “Know,” he said more confidently.

  “If you’re lying to me, I’ll come for you.”

  He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I swear, it’s the truth.

  “And do you know where he was going?” she asked.

  Moshe nodded. “You’ll never catch him though. He left on a flight for Tel Aviv from Washington hours ago.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Jana said before she turned and exited the shop.

  She dialed the Firestorm offices and Shields answered.

  “What’d you find out?” Shields asked.

  “He’s traveling under the name of Isaac Goldstein, and he’s headed back to Tel Aviv.”

  Chapter 16

  Dulles International Airport

  Dulles, Virginia

  BEN LEVINE CRAMMED his suitcase into the overhead bin and then glanced down at the empty seat situated between an elderly gentleman and a college-aged woman engrossed in her phone. He tapped the woman on her shoulder to get her attention and then nodded at the empty seat. She offered him a thin smile and then unbuckled from her seat to let him pass. He squeezed his way past her and then prepared for takeoff.

  Levine engaged the elderly man in polite conversation for a few minutes before the captain instructed the flight crew to prepare for takeoff. The cabin lights went dim and the plane backed from the jetway. While they rolled away from the gate, Levine leaned forward and strained to see out of the window, watching the man use his lighted orange batons to direct the pilot.

  As the plane navigated along the tarmac, Levine held his breath. He felt safer in the U.S. than he did anywhere else, but that wasn’t saying much. He wouldn’t relax until they were in the air. Whoever was chasing him was well-connected and had vast resources. If there was anything Levine understood, it was the value of disappearing. His family thought he was dead and so did Mossad as far as he knew. Now, he had the opportunity to begin anew. Leaving his wife and family behind was the most difficult part, but he realized it was vital for both his survival and theirs. The less they knew, the better.

  Levine drummed his fingers on his knee as the jet moved methodically forward.

  “Folks, this is your captain speaking,” a man’s voice said over the intercom. “We’re eleventh in line for takeoff, so sit back and relax. We’ll have this bird in the air before you know it.”

  Levine timed the movement of the plane. Every sixty seconds, it moved about the distance of another plane before coming to halt. He calculated they’d moved six more times before the captain spoke again over the intercom.

  “I apologize for the intrusion,” the captain said, “but I’m afraid we need to return to the gate to deal with a mechanical issue.”

  “Chara,” Levine swore under his breath in Hebrew.

  The elderly gentlemen, who’d already started to snore, awakened and then looked at Levine. “Is something wrong?”

  Levine nodded. “Apparently, there’s a mechanical issue.”

  “How long will we be at the gate?”

  “The captain didn’t say, but I expect it’ll be a while.”

  The man chuckled. “More time to sleep. And if you don’t mind, wake me when we finally land.”

  “Of course,” Levine said.

  He felt his hands bead up with sweat as they sped back toward the gate. While he considered all the possible reasons for the return of the airplane, he heard sirens in the distance. The old man had dropped off asleep again, giving Levine free rein to look outside. In the distance, he heard sirens wailing.

  Levine resisted the urge to look at the strobing red and blue lights flashing along the runway. Instead, he closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat, wishing he could disappear into it and make the whole ordeal go away. But he couldn’t. He had to face it.

  For a brief moment, Levine considered how he might be able to escape from the airplane if federal agents boarded it. He could go to the bathroom and then open the service door. He’d have to jump, but it at least gave him a fighting chance to escape. Surrendering to authorities would almost guarantee him that he’d end up in a cell somewhere or in the hands of a powerful person who would make sure that Levine never left the country or told another soul what he knew.

  Nearing the gate, Levine heard more sirens and more engines roaring toward his position.

  Hashem, please, help me.

  It was the first prayer he’d uttered in years. Under the circumstances, he didn’t mind setting aside his cynicism about his faith.

  The sirens grew louder and louder. Levine prayed all the harder. He looked outside the window and saw agents pouring out of their cars, weapons drawn.

  Chara.

  He tapped the woman next to him on her shoulder. She rolled her eyes before removing her ear buds and then standing up. As he maneuvered his way toward the aisle, a flight attendant rushed over to stop him.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the man said. “You need to remain in your seat.”

  “But I need to use the restroom,” Levine protested.

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible right now. When we’re in the air, we’ll let you know when you’re free to move about the cabin.”

  Levine didn’t move. “I need to go right now.”

  “Sir, if you don’t have a seat, we’re at the gate,” the flight attendant said. “It won’t be difficult for me to have you removed.”

  Levine bit his lip and returned to his seat. After a few minutes, he got the attention of one of the flight attendants.

  “How can I help you, sir?” she asked.

  “We haven’t heard from the captain in a while,” Levine said. “What’s going on?”

  “Like the captain said, it’s a mechanical issue. And right now, we’re not sure how long it will take to resolve it.”

  “Okay, thanks,” he said, his eyes bouncing to the activity outside.

  Police officers poured out of their vehicles, weapons drawn. In less than a minute, the men disappeared from Levine’s view.

  He drummed his fingers on his knee again before bouncing it up and down.

  The woman next to him removed her ear bud
s and put her hand on his knee. “Would you chill, man? They’re not going to send us back in the air if something’s wrong. It’ll be all right.”

  Levine turned slowly toward her, narrowing his gaze. She removed her hand from his knee and offered a faint smile.

  “Just relax,” she said again.

  Levine took a deep breath and leaned back in his seat. He assumed a calm demeanor, which lasted all of about thirty seconds, broken by the sound of pounding fists on the door by the jetway.

  He squeezed the armrests and said another prayer. Holding his breath, he watched the flight attendant rush over to the door and yank hard on the handle, opening the hatch. A man and a woman entered and looked around before addressing her.

  “Can we speak to your captain?” one of the men asked.

  “Certainly,” she said, gesturing toward the cockpit.

  The two men followed her. Meanwhile, Levine couldn’t stop imagining the worst. His reaction went against every bit of training he’d ever had. But so did his situation. Though it had been a while since his initial classes, he knew that getting into a scenario where he had no weapon and there was only one exit usually resulted in a catastrophic ending, if not deadly. And he had no control over anything, also highly discouraged in his training.

  Levine steadied his breathing as he couldn’t ignore the thoughts flooding his mind.

  What were those people doing in the cockpit? And what was taking them so long?

  The elderly man next to Levine stirred before opening his eyes. “Did we just land?”

  “Oh, no, sir. We haven’t left yet.”

  “I swear, it felt like I was out for hours.”

  Levine smiled. “Maybe an hour at the most, but we’ll be there before you know.”

  The old man shrugged before leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes.

  Levine did the same, except he was also praying.

  Hashem, please, get this plane in the air.

  Chapter 17

  Dulles International Airport

  Dulles, Virginia

  BLACK AND SHIELDS ENTERED the airplane through the jetway before stopping outside. The lead flight attendant opened the hatch. After explaining their reason for being there, she led them to the cockpit. They explained to the pilot that they need to apprehend a fugitive onboard.

  “Is he dangerous?” the pilot asked.

  “We don’t believe so,” Shields said. “But it’s imperative that we pull him off this plane to speak to him.”

  The pilot looked at the flight attendant. “Do you have a copy of the manifest?”

  “Yeah, right here,” she said, handing the printout to Black. He and Shields scanned it before locating Isaac Goldstein, his seat number listed as B-11.

  Black looked at Shields. “Let’s go get him.”

  “Roger that,” she said.

  “Sir,” Black said, turning to the pilot, “I don’t believe this will take long and we’re not expecting any type of violence, but please remain inside the cockpit with the door locked. We’ll radio to you when the situation is diffused. Am I making myself clear?”

  The pilot nodded. “Good luck.”

  Black and Shields emerged from the cockpit and headed down the aisle. Passengers wearing anxious expressions followed Black and Shields as they marched toward Goldstein’s seat. They left a wave of murmurs in their wake.

  Upon reaching the appointed seat, Black and Shields found no one sitting in the middle seat on that aisle. Black looked at another flight attendant standing near the front of the business class section.

  “Is this seat B-eleven?” Black asked.

  She nodded.

  “Where’s the person who was occupying this seat?” Shields asked.

  The woman shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he got up to go to the restroom. But everyone’s on board. I did the head check myself.”

  Black glared at her. “We gave you explicit instructions to make sure everyone remained in their seat.”

  A man sitting two rows back in an aisle seat leaned forward. “What’s this all about?”

  Black held out his hand to the man, refusing to answer him.

  “I’m sorry,” the flight attendant said to Black. “There’s no way to get out of the plane. It’s completely sealed off. We’ve been here for a while, and I didn’t want to deny people the chance to go to the restroom.”

  “Now we have a situation,” Black said. “The man who’s supposed to be sitting here is gone and you don’t know where he is.”

  She sighed. “Let me check the bathroom.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Shields said.

  Black watched them hustle down the aisle. More worried looks spread across the faces of all the passengers.

  The young woman sitting in the aisle seat on Isaac Goldstein’s row took her headphones off and looked up at Black, almost as if she was unaware anything was happening.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “We’re looking for your seat mate,” Black said. He glanced back down the aisle and saw Shields shaking her head as the pair rushed back toward him.

  “My seat mate?” she asked, staring at him incredulously.

  Black nodded. “Yeah, the man who was sitting in that middle seat.”

  “Nobody’s been in this seat the whole time I’ve been here,” she said. “Just me and Mr. Drools over there by the window. He fell asleep before I even buckled my seatbelt.”

  Black cursed his breath. “Okay, thank you.”

  Shields arrived back with the flight attendant. “Well, now what?”

  “This woman here,” Black said, nodding at the passenger in A-11, “just told me that no one has occupied that seat since she boarded.”

  “Are you sure?” Shields asked the woman, who was listening intently.

  “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I’ve been quite excited about it. This is a long trip.”

  Black turned his gaze to the flight attendant. “We need to do a quick headcount.”

  “I already did one,” she said. “Everyone on the manifest is here and accounted for.”

  “Let me see it again,” Black said.

  She squeezed past them and went to the galley near the front of the plane to get her list.

  “What do you think?” Shields asked.

  “I think that old man played Jana like a fiddle,” Black said. “He misdirected us, probably at Levine’s bidding.”

  The flight attendant returned and handed the list over to Black. He ran his fingers down the list, searching for Isaac Goldstein’s name.

  “He’s missing,” Black said.

  “Who?” asked the flight attendant.

  “Isaac Goldstein. He was supposed to be on this flight and was on the pilot’s manifest.”

  “He’s not on this one?” she asked.

  Black shook his head.

  “Then that’s because you probably saw an earlier manifest that only includes ticketed passengers. This one is the final one that includes everyone who boarded.”

  Black wanted to put his fist through one of the overhead bins but decided against it. “Let’s go,” he said to Shields before turning to the lead flight attendant. “I’ll radio your pilot to let him know that you’re clear to take off now.”

  Once the two operatives were on the jetway, Black radioed the airport security team to let them know that Ben Levine was not on the flight and neither was Isaac Goldstein. Black notified the pilot that they were clear to resume travel. After the pair exited the jetway through a rickety metal staircase, Black paced around the tarmac and tried to think of how he could’ve escaped.

  “I don’t know what else to do,” Black said. “We’re at a dead end. Levine could be anywhere by now. For all we know, he never came to the airport.”

  Shields tied her hair up in a bun and let out a long breath. “I should’ve gone with Jana.”

  “No, it would’ve definitely tipped off the forger. Going there by herself was the only reason we got any information.”<
br />
  “Useless information.”

  Black squinted as he watched a plane roar off into the night sky. An idea popped into his head, something he’d yet to consider.

  “Maybe it’s not entirely useless,” Black said as he stroked his chin.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, this whole time we’ve been focused on the name Isaac Goldstein. But that’s how Levine planned to escape the country.”

  “So, what are you saying?”

  “Maybe he’s not trying to escape the country … yet.”

  Shields raised her eyebrows and studied Black as he stopped pacing and templed his fingers. “Go on.”

  “Isaac Goldstein may have very well been a ticketed passenger tonight,” Black said. “Maybe he was going to leave the country, but the forger called him and told him to take a different course of action.”

  “How else would he do that without us being able to find his name in the ticketing system? He’d have to buy a ticket to go anywhere, and his name would have to be on it.”

  “Unless he had another form of identification.”

  “Such as?”

  Black pulled out his phone and dialed Besserman’s number.

  “Did you get him?” Besserman asked as he answered.

  “Not yet,” Black said, “but I did have a quick question for you.”

  “Fire away.”

  “What was the name of the man whose identity Levine stole?”

  Besserman didn’t hesitate in his response. “Edward Rodriguez. Why? Wha—”

  “I’ll explain it all later,” Black said before hanging up.

  “You get a name?” Shields asked.

  “Edward Rodriguez,” Black said. “Let’s see if we can crosscheck all the manifests with that name and see what we come up with.”

  “Give me a minute,” Shields said. She stepped away and made a phone call.

  While she was tracking down that information, Black was already working two steps ahead, trying to figure out what he would do if he was in a similar situation and felt just as endangered as Levine probably did. He’d create a diversion to draw the attention of the authorities elsewhere then try to escape through a less secure route. In the Middle East, Black would’ve attempted to do this through several countries before returning home if necessary. And if Black were in Levine’s exact situation, Mexico would be the target. Going that route would afford him multiple outlets for escape through Central America. Plus, Black had contacts throughout that region, which was also something to consider. But the lack of information on Levine crippled Black.