Greg had spent the morning coordinating with local law enforcement in an attempt to locate Lyle Briggs. He hadn’t returned to his hotel room or the Skyose offices, and hadn’t contacted Cabo Barnes. His open-ended return ticket to New Mexico hadn’t been used yet, and there wasn’t a record of him having taken another flight. Greg supposed that Briggs could have rented a car, intending to drive to New Mexico. It didn’t matter. He’d be found soon.
He’d spoken to Russell McCarthy at Holloman, who’d executed the search warrant on Roy Shaw’s office and had come up empty. He’d also received the forensics reports on Shaw’s car. They’d found no one else’s prints and no evidence of anyone else having been in the vehicle. Another dead end.
When Justin called, Greg had just ended a phone conversation with Roy Shaw’s wife, updating her on the “search” for her husband. It pissed him off to have to deceive her. He wasn’t sure how she’d react when she learned that Roy was dead, and he was glad that it wouldn’t be his job to tell her. That news would be delivered in person.
After the emotional conversation with Mrs. Shaw, he was delighted to see Justin’s name on his caller ID. He answered, “Hey, what’s up?”
Justin’s words chilled him. He tried to sound calm and reassuring, but he was as scared shitless as Justin was. He said, “My whole team will be there. We’ll see you soon,” then said goodbye and ran to Vernon’s office. “Sir! A man claiming to be Roy Shaw has arranged a meeting with the reporter Shaw initially contacted.”
Vernon didn’t hesitate. He stepped into the hallway and shouted. “Everyone! In the hallway, now!”
Mindy, Zach, Tom, and four 0083s scurried into the hallway. Vernon outlined the situation. “First, get everyone else out of the area. Mindy, Zach, you’ll be near the volleyball net.”
Zach said, “I’ve got a Frisbee in my truck.”
“Perfect. Abbott, Kaminski, you’ll be at a picnic table. Pretend to be on your phones. Tom, you and I will be at another table, playing chess. Greg, take your rifle and find a spot to hide yourself with a line of sight to the impostor.”
“Yes, sir.”
Vernon clapped his hands. “Let’s move.”
The agents scattered. Vernon packed his chess set. Zach and Mindy changed into shorts and t-shirts. The others untucked shirts and pulled them over their waistbands, hiding their sidearms.
Greg hustled to his truck. He’d cleaned the rifle after firing it at the gator, so it was ready. He loaded it automatically, the motions second nature, with only one thought in his head.
If the bastard moves on Justin, I’ll kill him.
He sped to Tables Beach, parked, and scrambled across the dunes. He found a concealing spot among the sea grape and dune grass, wriggled on his belly to the top of the dune, and poked the barrel of the rifle through the vegetation.
He was ready.