It was coming on two in the afternoon when Gannon came out of a 7-Eleven on the concourse of the Salt Lake City Airport, walking along with the crowd.
The airport had been empty the week before when he had left with Kit to Wyoming, but it was packed now for some reason. Coming around a corner, he glanced up at a CNN news screen across the corridor and smiled when he saw it wasn’t showing his face.
Perfect, he thought. So far so good.
Passing one of the other gates, he saw a service member with a shaved head, sleeping in a seat in the waiting area. He was a young marine, the brim of his camo cap over his eyes, his shaved head against his olive green canvas rucksack.
Gannon thought about his own deployments over the years and how he never thought to wonder on whose behalf he was being sent to wreak incredible amounts of violence. It had never occurred to him that the unseen hands signing his top secret orders were just a pack of incredibly connected corrupt criminals pulling global strings to pour more and more money into their multinational pockets.
“Keep your head down, brother,” Gannon mumbled as he continued down the concourse.
Kit was talking on her phone when he arrived back, so he stood by the window. Right outside was a big white Delta airliner. He watched the orange jumpsuited mechanic on a scissor lift beneath its wing, refueling it.
The guy still wasn’t done when Kit finally hung up.
“So?” Gannon said.
“It’s on, Mike,” she said. “Just heard back from everyone. It’s on like Donkey Kong.”
For the last twenty-four hours, Kit had been calling people. Her friend Amy Cargill had told her about how the Denver SAC was relieved of duty and how there was a huge dustup throughout the Bureau.
That coupled with some other calls she had made to the heavy hitters she knew in the FBI’s New York office had prompted her to drop the entire mother lode of their investigation.
She had sent out Owen’s video and the NSA match on Lisa Weber, and now an FBI task force was quickly being put together do something about it.
Which was why they were at the airport. Kit was on a three o’clock Delta flight into Baltimore to meet up with the New York office team to drop the hammer.
“You sure about all of this?” Gannon said, wincing as her flight was called.
“I’m positive,” Kit said, grabbing up her new carry-on.
John Barber stood.
“Here, Kit. I got you a going-away present,” Barber said, offering her a plastic bag.
She reached inside of it and took out what looked like an old iPhone.
“Why, John, an old phone,” Kit said. “You shouldn’t have.”
“It’s actually a souvenir from my time in military intelligence,” he said. “See the bottom here? The little thing that looks like a button? It’s not a button. That’s the receiver you point. You press this switch here, it’ll work as a shotgun microphone. You press this one here, it’ll pick up a cell phone conversation or any other radio signal you point it at. It eats battery like crazy so I included the charger. Downside is you have to be pretty close. A hundred yards is about the max range and you have a clear line of sight. Otherwise it’ll get scrambled with other signals.”
“Got it. Thanks, John, but this is for...?” Kit said.
He shrugged.
“Who knows? Might come in handy where you’re headed.”
“This isn’t legal, John, is it?” she said.
“Not in any way, shape or form,” he said with a grin.
He stepped away as Gannon came over. He had his hand behind his back.
“I got you a going-away present, too,” he said as he handed her the Twix he’d bought at the 7-Eleven.
“Twix,” she said with a laugh. “Who doesn’t love Twix?”
He gave her a hug goodbye.
“Listen, Kit,” he said, holding her for a second more. “I know what you said about these new friends of yours, but be careful. That Dawn Warner gets wind of your little plan, you know she’ll be coming for you with her flying monkeys. Trust no one.”
“Except you, you mean,” Kit said in his ear.
“Now you’re finally getting with the program,” Gannon said as he winked and squeezed her wrist and finally let her go.