The man behind the large mahogany desk was shocked at the familiar ringtone. “I’m sorry, senator, I have an emergency call coming in. Would you like to continue this conversation over drinks later this afternoon at the club?” He hoped the man would say yes. The private gentleman’s club they both belonged to would give him even more secrets to use against the elected official.
He could also take advantage of the facility’s private rooms. He’d been under so much stress lately and knew the powerful release he could get from the hands and mouth of Mistress Tigress would go a long way. Maybe he’d even fuck her tonight.
The man on the other end of the line agreed quickly.
“Perfect, then I’ll see you at eight.” He quickly opened the locked drawer and pressed the button to bolt his doors and engage the sound encryption before he answered the secure satellite phone. “Uncle. Is there a problem?” His uncle knew damn well what time and date was and that he would be at work. Calling him there was becoming dangerous as they moved toward their ultimate goal.
“You tell me, Abd al Rashid.” His uncle sounded angry. “My sources say there are hidden files in a computer that you failed to retrieve. Partial copies are right there in your own building. You’d better hope they don’t have enough to lead them to you, and you had better make sure there is absolutely nothing tangible that connects you to me. Double your security methods.”
Half a world away, the man let out a heavy sigh. “Even though you are of my blood, we are all disposable soldiers in Allah’s army. Let me know as soon as you have secured and destroyed those files.”
The line went dead.
The man stared at the tight grain in his mahogany desk.
Who the fuck did his uncle have inside the CIA? Where the hell were those files? Who within the organization had found them?
As soon as he asked himself the last question, he knew the answer. Matthew Saint Clare. He was becoming a bigger threat every day. He allowed himself time to consider sending the special agent back through reprogramming but discarded the idea when he remembered that Saint Clare had remarried Elizabeth. She would instantly realize something was amiss, as one of the original members of the mission, and may put the fragments together. She was a very smart woman, a threat in her own right. She had been onto his uncle, Nassar al-Jamil, for years.
His own men had checked the computer they had found in Gabriel’s apartment. It contained very little, only personal bills. Tax shit. Nothing of interest.
It was his own fault. He had ordered his men not to take anything that might be missed. He would not punish them for following orders precisely. Besides, they were his best protégés. They were moving quickly through the ranks at the secret camp in Pennsylvania. They had a future with his organization.
The first thing he needed to do was seek and destroy the copies currently in the hands of the CIA. Then he needed to retrieve that laptop. If Matthew Saint Clare had recently gotten possession of information, then the laptop was active, which meant its location was traceable.
He picked up the phone and called his personal geek on sub level two. Within moments, he had the location of the computer and a bit of bad news. The copies they had in-house were just that, copies. Worse, they were two copies created.
Gabe’s old computer was now filled with games for young children. Unfortunately, the computer had been disconnected from the Internet too soon so his computer genius could not delve deeper into the hard drive. He was, though, able to determine that two copies of the hidden files had been created.
The man rocked back in his leather executive chair. He concluded that the laptop was now being used by Gabriel’s children. If he were a gambling man, he’d bet the Marine special operator had made two copies of the hard drive and shared one with his friend Matthew Sinclair. Logically, he would keep the second copy in a safe at his house in North Carolina.
He knew exactly who he’d send to retrieve the computer and backup files. It would be good practice for his men, putting their covert skills against those of Lieutenant Colonel Jackson. It would also be an excellent test of their creativity. This was a real-life situation, and a real-time test.
He picked up the encrypted phone and issued orders.
Glancing at the clock, he thought he’d head to the club. He had plenty of time to take advantage of the services of Mistress Tigress before he had to meet with the senator. He was definitely going to fuck her.
He chuckled. It was his doctor’s orders.
He was following his doctor’s orders.