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The miles passed on the I-95 South throughout the afternoon as Noah increased the distance between themselves and Miriam’s house.
“How did you get this information?” Dickinson had quickly caught up on the background of the four names. She held the book from the farmhouse and turned off the tablet after reading the lawyer’s report.
When Noah finished the story of how he obtained the book, Angie remained silent and stared out the passenger window. One finger tapped on the armrest. It was a lot of information to digest, and most importantly, all true.
“Did you kill anyone?”
Noah shook his head. “No. I won’t do that unless there is absolutely no choice and only in self-defense.”
“How did you find out about the four subjects? The data came from a law firm.”
Trust. Trust balanced the equation, but Noah didn’t know how far to push. Dickinson knew about the cash he had stashed away in the woods at his cabin. She had stumbled across it when Noah went missing. He did not lie to her, but again, he hadn’t told her the full story either. How do you explain that your former fiancée stole the money from her uncle, an organized crime boss, stashed it in various accounts, then gifted it to him? Despite several dozen anonymous donations, the property investment corporation he used to move the money continued to grow at an alarming rate. The real-estate market was hot. CD Consulting was now worth over one-hundred-million dollars. How would Angie react? Only one way to find out.
“I have a law firm that works for me, almost exclusively. They handle mainly real estate deals for a company I own. Their research team is top-notch, and they compiled the report.”
“Okay.” Dickinson looked over to see if he was joking. “How is this possible?”
With all the risks she was taking, Angie deserved to know. “Do you remember when my house exploded? That was just the start ....”
It took almost forty-five minutes to tell her everything. Absolutely everything. Not only was Dickinson his partner, but they had saved each other's lives, which created a bond not shared by just friends. Noah found that once he started, he felt relieved as he unburdened and spilled his guts. He hadn’t told anyone the full story before. Only Megan (Rachel) knew everything, but they hadn’t talked or seen each other since the shootout with the FBI.
Once finished, Noah was prepared for anything. If Dickinson wanted out, he would drive her to the nearest airport. Should she wish to report everything to the feds, he wouldn’t stop her. Noah respected her too much. He would cross that bridge, should he come to it.
For now, they drove in silence as they headed south.
“So, not only do you have untold millions stashed away, you are still working as a cop?”
“The money doesn’t change who I am. I’ve given away twelve million dollars to charities and organizations. However, the investments seem to be doing rather well.”
Angie cleared her throat. “This will take a while to process.” She glanced at him, then back out the front window. “But, I’m still in. However, I have one condition.”
Noah raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Go ahead.”
“If I lose my job, you will support me until retirement.”
He grinned. “Done.”
“Also, it’s possible we’ll need good lawyers. You’ll have to cover that. I don’t make enough.” Her dimples made a brief appearance. “I’m also partial to weekly manicures and massages. We can negotiate on that one.”
Noah couldn’t explain the relief as the knot of tension fled. He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ll buy you a salon.”
“I also get to listen to my music for the next two hours.” They talked about inconsequential things as they drove through Virginia toward North Carolina. Neither heard the electronic chime as the GPS on Angie’s cell phone turned on and began to broadcast their location.
*****
“A COP? SERIOUSLY?” Emma tossed her handbag on the table and took a seat around the edge of the control room. “We wacked a president in Chad last spring, and now we are chasing a police officer?”
The woman was of average height, with long brown hair. The scattering of freckles across her nose made her look younger than thirty-eight years old. When she glanced at her bare forearms, she pulled the sleeves down to hide the multitude of scars.
“He’ll come to a sticky end, don’t worry. From what we’re being paid for this one, consider it a working vacation. Iain, how are you doing?” Eric closed the blinds on the living room window and sat in the only armchair. The safe house had not been used in almost two years, and puffs of dust rose in the air.
Eric had been at the game longer than anyone else in the room, and he was looking for an easy score. Just a few more, and he would get out of the game and retire. That’s what he kept telling himself anyways. Men like him never retired.
“Good. I remembered the power supply adapter this time.” Iain Caldwell held the item in the air and plugged it into the wall. His luggage was mostly electronic items, with three laptops taking up the main bulk. The thin man was used to Emma’s outbursts and ignored them. He had posed as her husband so often that it felt like a marriage of sorts.
“Get crackin’. I’d like to be home before we get used to the time zone.” Emma pulled a water bottle out of her purse and tapped a foot on the hardwood floor.
“We all would, dear. Now quit your fuckin’ whining.”
They could hear a sledgehammer from the cellar as it pounded the concrete flooring. Oliver knew where to look, and he always seemed to enjoy getting his frustrations out. After hearing the story, Eric had no doubt the visual of a customs agent overlaying the floor.
Within a few minutes, Iain had the system up and running. He plugged in the high-speed modem and was online.
“Checking connections.” He switched to the middle laptop and logged into a server. The pounding in the basement stopped. “We have access.”
For five minutes, each screen had a black background and white typing as he entered a string of command code. Then on the third screen, an image of Noah Hunter was pulled up, and Eric studied the man’s face. He didn’t look special, just your average law-enforcement officer. “Can you check if he’s ever been charged?”
Back on the first screen, Iain called up the database search engine. “Nothing.”
“Current location?” Eric was curious about the charges but not that curious. He didn’t need to know, and none of his business. He didn’t give a rat’s ass what the cop did as long as he got paid. Let God sort it out.
“His cell phone is online and operational. Pinging in Arrow Point, Wyoming.”
“He’s probably ditched it. It conflicts with the latest intel. Can you pull up his known associates?”
The third screen flashed, then reset with the APPD logo in the top right-hand corner. Iain’s fingers flew over the keyboard, and then with a series of clicks, a woman’s picture came on screen. She stood in a police dress uniform in front of a blue background with the American flag at her side. A hat was tucked under her right arm.
“Sergeant Angela Dickinson. She’s his partner.”
“Start there. Women are usually involved if you want things done right.” Emma smirked and ignored the look Eric gave her.
“She is on a leave of absence from the station. I can pull up their payroll records if you like? Checking her cell phone.”
Oliver thumped up the stairs carrying a green sports bag in each hand. He dropped them on the dining room table and proceeded to empty both bags. Stone dust covered his hoodie and jeans, but he didn’t care. An array of weapons soon filled the table. Pistols, rifles, knives, and two shotguns were examined. A function test was performed on each, and then he began to field strip and clean a select few.
Eric kept an eye on Olley, but he wasn’t worried. There were zero reasons to doubt the man for the last three years they worked together.
He had his quirks, but then again, they all did. Mother recommended him, and after a trial operation, the merger was finalized.
“Here we go. Sergeant Dickinson is currently heading south on I-95. From the cell tower switch-over, she just entered North Carolina.”
Eric stood, and his knees cracked. One more thing to ignore. “Can you activate the Hound Program?”
“It’s already done.” Iain stood. “I think this will be a quick one as well.”
“About bloody time.” Emma walked over to the table and picked up a Glock 17, and hefted a silencer in the other hand. Everyone soon joined her as they chose a weapon. What they didn’t pick up, Oliver placed back into the bags and left them by the door.
Iain prepared to leave. Before the laptop was shut down, a circular logo flashed on the screen. The left-facing eagle clutched a key with a shield on its chest and blue background—National Security Agency ringed the design. It confirmed that the user wished to log off, and Iain clicked yes.
Eric chuckled. It was all about who you knew.