Page 115 of Dead Fall

“Look, now he’s riding higher,” Fields stated. “He emptied his trunk in the garage.”

“You want to track his return trip?” Greer asked.

Carolan shook his head. “Go back to the camera covering the garage. Let’s see who comes out.”

They didn’t have to wait long. Soon, a black Toyota Camry exited the garage, turned in the opposite direction Nistal had, and drove off. There was a driver and a passenger. Both males.

“Can you track that vehicle to its destination?” Carolan asked. “Also, can we get the best possible still shot of the occupants?”

Greer nodded and once again relayed the request to his tech.

They watched as the system followed the vehicle. When it got to where it was going, the detective said, “I guess I owe you an apology. You were right. This really is about national security.”

The final piece of footage showed the car pulling up to the gates of the Russian Embassy and, despite it not bearing diplomatic plates, being waved straight through by security.

“No, this can’t wait until tomorrow,” said Carolan as Fields drove and he spoke on the phone. “We have to move now.”

By the time they made it back to the office, a secure conference room had been all set up.

“This better be airtight,” a Bureau lawyer said as he squeezed past and grabbed a seat at the table.

On a suite of monitors at the front of the room, top brass appeared via secure video links. It was a sea of button-down shirts and V-neck sweaters.

Last to activate his camera was the FBI Director, who was wearing a coat and tie. He handed things right over to Carolan’s boss. After a couple of brief remarks, Carolan was given the floor.

He kept the briefing exactly as he would have expected one of his people to give it. He stuck to the facts, spoke clearly, and did not embellish. When he was finished, he took questions. As would be expected, there were lots of them.

If Burman had been murdered by the Russians, it would require a very serious response. That, however, would ultimately fall to the President and was beyond the scope of the moment. What mattered now was who did it and whether it could be proven.

There was also concern over the tracking devices that had been found. The fact that another one had been discovered on the vehicle of Carolan’s predecessor only raised further concerns that her health had been purposely targeted. Once again, if the Russians had been involved, it would only deepen the severity of the situation.

After all of their questions had been answered, the top brass adjourned to a private chat to discuss what should be done.

Not knowing how long it would take for them to reappear, or if they could be heard, none of the people in the conference room spoke.

When the feeds went live again, the Director sided with Carolan. If Nistal had been behind Burman’s death, he needed to be stopped before he killed, or caused someone to be killed, again. Warrants would be expedited. Carolan was given the green light to proceed.

It made sense to hit all three addresses—the D.C. apartment, theFrederick, Maryland, house, and the Frederick self-storage facility—all at the same time.

After the Frederick PD sent an unmarked car past Nistal’s home and confirmed that his Sentra was in the driveway, Carolan decided he and Fields would accompany that raid team.

A helicopter picked them up on the roof of the headquarters building and flew them to Fort Detrick, where they met up with agents from the Baltimore field office and proceeded to the target.

Nistal lived in a quiet subdivision that backed up onto a large, wooded area. As the FBI agents drove past in a nondescript van, children rode their bikes and played outside, neighbors chatted, and dogs darted back and forth in yards. It was the quintessential American neighborhood—the perfect place for a Russian operative to blend in and disappear.

With their weapons ready, the van pulled into Nistal’s driveway and a stream of agents in blue windbreakers piled out.

They formed a stack outside the split-level ranch with Fields in the lead. Conferring with the team leaders at the other locations, she gave the command to execute their coordinated raids.

Pounding on the home’s double front doors, she yelled, “FBI! Search warrant!”

Immediately, she stood back and let her breacher bash the doors in with his battering ram. Then, retaking the lead position, she led her team inside and began to clear the house.

When she got to the kitchen, she saw the back door was open and caught a flash of someone in the woods.

“Runner! Runner! Runner!” she announced over her radio. “He went out the back door. Headed southwest into the woods.” With Carolan right next to her, she took off after him.

The ground was rough, uneven, and uphill. Carolan started feeling the effects almost instantly. He was in no condition to handle a difficult foot chase.

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