I always prided myself on being an educated man, but now it appears a weakness. Brawn is more favored than brains in our new society and I am forced to keep my mouth shut as we work to build it.
—The journal of Isaac Ryland
The images on the flash drive were projected onto Grant’s wall. He could use his hand to rifle through them and pull up the file that went with the corresponding face. There were nine countries invited, yet photographs were available of only the supreme leaders of the land. In total twenty-three guests were making their way to his country, and that did not include their American soldier escorts. Some groups had one or two, while others had as many as six or seven.
Grant had pulled all of their names and every one checked out. There were no girls around Mia’s age on any of the manifests. Several of the groups reported bringing young men into the country with them and Grant wondered if Mia was back to posing as a male.
It had taken a few hours, but Grant had finally used the information to find the names of the RAG agents in charge of the foreign visitors. Six teams were already in the country. It made Grant’s skin crawl to think America was being invaded like this. He picked up his phone and dialed the next number on his list of agents.
“Agent Fuller,” the man said as he picked up the phone.
“Special Agent Fuller,” Grant said. “This is Grant Marsden. I’m calling to check on the status of our guests.”
There was silence for a moment on the other end.
“Is this a joke?” the agent asked.
“No,” Grant said. “Please tell me, how are our foreign visitors?”
“Sir,” Agent Fuller said. “It is an honor to hear from you; I’m one of your biggest supporters.”
“Thank you,” Grant said. Each of the four phone calls prior to this one had gone similarly. With each number he dialed, Grant’s patience was spread thinner.
“Were there any problems or issues with our guests?” Grant asked.
He had his computer screen up with the information Ian had supplied. A photograph of the supreme leader of each country, along with the names and dates of birth of their civilian escorts, then information on the American soldiers escorting the parties.
“Problems? No, sir, none at all,” the agent said.
“I know you are eager to please,” Grant said. “But I want to hear all the details. Is everyone on the itinerary accounted for?”
“President Mannhouse’s flight landed safely,” Agent Fuller said. “He brought along his son Bradley. They appear content. No issues to report.”
“No females in the group?”
“None, sir,” Agent Fuller said.
Grant let out a sigh; another wasted phone call.
“I would love to take this time to tell you how inspiring I find your story. Everyone is expecting Grand Commander to announce you as his replacement and I think the country couldn’t be left to better hands.”
“Thank you for your time,” Grant said.
“The way that you have overcome so much with your wife’s passing and how you have dedicated your life to bettering our armed services are an inspiration. I would love to—”
Grant hung up the phone. He didn’t care about his celebrity status. There were too many coincidences going on at the moment and Grant was certain Mia was on her way into the country. The last name on his list to call was an Agent Barker. Grant pulled up the picture of the French leader and rolled his eyes as he saw the woman’s picture on his screen. Her itinerary listed two male companions. Grant dialed Agent Barker’s phone number.
“Agent Barker,” the man said.
“Hello. This is Grant Marsden. I am phoning to check on the status of our international guests.”
“This is . . . the Grant Marsden?”
“Yes,” Grant said. “Now, how are my guests doing?”
“Sir,” Agent Barker said, “this is truly a privilege to hear from you. I—”
“Thank you for your words,” Grant said, interrupting. “But my time is limited. How is your trip?”
“Yes, sir, of course. We’re stopped at a gas station right now,” the agent said. “Refueling for the rest of the trek. We are an hour away from visiting the youth home.”
“I don’t care about your itinerary,” Grant said. “I want to know about the visitors. Were there any issues?”
“None other than the ones I’ve already reported,” Agent Barker said.
“Please,” Grant said, “give me those details.”
Grant sat up in his chair. He felt his heart skip a beat with excitement.
“The young man listed on the guest list was in fact a young woman,” Agent Barker said.
“Can you take a photograph of this woman and send it to me?” Grant asked.
“We don’t have that type of technology,” Agent Barker said.
Grant rolled his eyes in frustration over the technology ban. “Describe her,” Grant said.
“Shorter dark blond hair,” Agent Barker said. “Blue eyes, average height, quiet.”
“Is she very pretty?” Grant asked.
The agent didn’t respond at first.
“I’ve been annoyed at having to escort a female leader,” Agent Barker said. “But if I think about it, I would say she is stunning.”
“Do you have a GPS locator?” Grant asked.
“I haven’t seen one of those since my time in service,” Agent Barker said.
“Do you know your exact location?” Grant asked.
“I can give you the location of the youth home we’re visiting and the hotel we’re staying at tonight,” Agent Barker said.
“You’re in the Southwest Area?” Grant asked.
He pulled up the itinerary of this group on his computer screen. It was at least a five-hour flight away.
“Yes,” Agent Barker said. “Should I be concerned?”
“Not at all,” Grant said.
The last thing Grant wanted was for Mia’s presence to become public knowledge.
“One last question,” Grant asked. “The soldiers escorting the group; I see there are five listed. Is one of them young, tall, and lean, with dark hair and eyes?”
“Yes,” Agent Barker said. “I haven’t had a lot of conversation with the escorts.”
Mia and Andrew were together, traveling with the French. Grant slammed his fist down on his desk. He wasn’t sure if it was in triumph at finding them or in aggravation over their attempt to infiltrate America.
“Sir,” Agent Barker said, “does this affect our schedule?”
Grant did not want Mia to know he was onto them. He also technically had no authority over this RAG agent and didn’t want Barker calling his superiors and notifying them. This had to be taken care of personally.
“No,” Grant said. “Proceed as normal.”
Grant hung up the phone. He jumped up from his desk and ran out of his office. He spotted his butler, Brandon, in the hallway.
“Make the arrangements for my plane,” Grant said. “I want to land as close as possible to the Hotel Austin in the Southwest Area.”
“Yes, sir,” Brandon said.
Grant appreciated that he didn’t ask many questions. Grant went toward the front door and paused by the mirror hanging in the hall. He was wearing a navy blue cashmere sweater with navy and green checked pants. It would have to do; Grant didn’t have the time to change. Tonight he would meet an unsuspecting Amelia Morrissey in her hotel room and safely dispose of her forever.