I inquired how the repopulation plans were going and regret asking. The response was that the remaining female population of our once-great country is being kept under lock and key as they are our national treasure now.
—The journal of Isaac Ryland
The wheels of the plane touched down near the site of the explosion. Grant had memorized the file, and while he appreciated some time, the four-hour trip wasn’t necessary. Once he was grand commander RAG agents would be allowed some technological advances and Grant would be able to accomplish things like this without leaving the comfort of his own home.
Within minutes Grant was walking up to the site. He saw some agents standing around the smoldering building while other government workers were still spraying parts of the area. He counted thirteen body bags. That meant five were missing. In that moment he knew in his gut Amelia was one of them.
“Good morning, sir,” a RAG agent said.
“Where are the other five bodies?” Grant asked.
“Excuse me?”
“There were eighteen people in this building,” Grant said. “I count thirteen bags and I hope you understand the concept of basic math.”
“These people were toward the door,” the RAG agent said. “The generator and gas line were near the rear. That is where the building suffered the most damage. We assume they were back there.”
“This was a tour of a fake building designed to give the French prime minister a positive opinion of our orphanages,” Grant said.
“Youth homes,” the agent said.
“Call them what you want,” Grant said. “If the tour were still going on, wouldn’t the prime minister have been in the back? Yet her body was toward the front.”
“We’re not certain,” the agent said.
Grant turned around and looked at the landscape.
“And the cars?” Grant asked.
“What cars?”
“This group was traveling in a caravan of three SUVs,” Grant said. “Where were the vehicles when you arrived?”
The agent was quiet.
“If you lie to me I will rip your spine out,” Grant said. “Don’t worry about whatever lie your boss told you to give.”
“They were missing,” the agent said. “No vehicles were on the scene.”
“So that means at least three survivors?” Grant asked.
“Or they were stolen after the explosion,” the agent said.
“Because that makes so much more sense?” Grant asked. “A phony building in the middle of nowhere bursts into flames and at least three random onlookers stole the cars instead of calling your offices?”
The agent struggled to speak.
“I don’t suppose the cars have trackers?”
“No, sir,” the agent said.
Grant knew that already, or else he would have chased after Amelia two nights ago. Another thing the technology ban made difficult for him.
“Please tell me your theory,” Grant said. “Honestly.”
“This does not look good for our organization,” the agent said.
“I didn’t ask for you to cover for your superiors’ ineptitude,” Grant said. “I asked for your honest opinion.”
“It looks like five people survived the fire and ran off with the cars,” the agent said.
“Do you believe the survivors were fellow RAG agents?” Grant asked.
“I think they were the soldiers escorting the French lady,” the agent said. “Probably didn’t want to return to their overseas duty and chose the coward’s way out.”
“That is a fine theory,” Grant said. “What other information do you have to back this up?”
“None of the bodies have identification or phones,” he said. “No RAG agent would leave these items behind. Also, there were shell casings. I believe the fire was set afterward to cover the bodies up. There were five soldiers escorting the French woman.”
Grant was pleased. The agent’s theory was sound. Of course the agent was not aware a woman matching Amelia’s description was with the group.
“Do you have any other suggestions for how this played out?” Grant asked.
“Sir, in the spirit of honesty,” the agent said, “there is reason to believe at least one of the survivors was the French woman’s guest. It’s just a theory, but the woman’s body was identified because her jewelry withstood the flames. Then we sorted the remains by height and what other factors we could tell with the damage. It’s too early to say for sure, but wouldn’t a young female companion have the same amount of expensive jewelry? I think the rogue soldiers are holding her hostage.”
The small hairs on the inside of Grant’s ear rose. This man was clever. Now Grant had all the information he needed to hunt Mia down under the pretense of finding the deserters. Not even Ian would question his actions.
He turned to head toward the plane. As soon as he landed Grant would assemble his team. Then it hit him: Rex was a traitor and his team was defunct. Grant spun around. He looked the RAG agent up and down. The man wore the standard suit and tie. He was dark skinned with short hair, and sunglasses took up most of his face. Grant could tell the man was more than capable.
“You’re coming with me,” Grant said.
“I have orders to stay,” he said.
“Are you married?” Grant asked.
“No,” the agent said.
“What is your name?”
“Agent Gen Hansen.”
“Well, Agent Hansen, you just got yourself a promotion,” Grant said. “Your new orders are to follow me.”
Grant spun around and started walking toward the plane. He was pleased to hear Hansen’s footsteps behind him.
The missing woman was Amelia, and two of the soldiers were likely Carter and Andrew. Grant had underestimated her. She had executed thirteen people to get into the country. The game was back on, and this time he would win.