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What went before... Seventeen years ago
I stood on the big slab of granite I’d claimed as my own, far above the commune, above it all. Bianca had followed me here, even though I’d insisted I wanted to be alone.
I took a breath of high desert air and blew it out, then slung an arm over her shoulders. She stiffened, then shrugged out from beneath my arm and ran down the dirt trail before coming to a stop, her thin shoulders hitching as if she was fighting back sobs.
I kept my pace slow, approaching her as I might a skittish animal. I’d known this moment was coming. I was just surprised it had taken so long.
When she turned to face me, she didn’t wear the petulance I’d expect from a child, but instead the aching pain of loss. A loss that echoed within me as if we were twins. “I don’t want you to go, Arin.” Her eyes were bright with tears. “But I know you need to. Especially after what happened with Tommy.”
Ah, so she had known. And the adults thought they were so smart.
I nodded once. The Event was just the tip of the iceberg, one reason of many my departure was the best thing for everyone. Except maybe Bianca.
I was out of place with all these brilliant artists who thrived on chaos and disorder. A duckling amongst swans. Always had been. Always would be.
Where I wanted, needed, control and order, they gleefully threw it to the winds and then took the remnants and made them beautiful. I wasn’t one of them, never had been. Never would be. My decision to give Emily the possibility of a better life had deepened the chasm between us until it was almost impassible.
“You’ll be fine,” I reassured her. If I hadn’t been sure of that, I’d have sucked it up and postponed college another year, never mind the fact I ached to step into the world. Bianca would be more than fine, she’d blossom in my absence. She fit in here, in a way I never had, never could. She was everyone’s darling, including mine.
She stuck her chin in the air. “I’ll be better than fine without you bossing me around all the time.”
I smiled. The earth was warm against my bare feet as I swallowed past the lump in my throat. Today was it. The last day I’d call this place home. The last day I would truly serve as Bianca’s guardian. The last day of my old life.
It was a day I’d looked forward to for so long. Now it terrified me beyond reason.
––––––––
Now...
“Do you think Farrell had anything to do with this?” I asked after we’d been walking for about an hour.
Summers flinched as if I’d struck him. “Hell no. Trang’s just too damned good at what he does. And he pretty much lives to cover Heath’s ass. If he thought I was a danger to his principal, he’d take me out without even blinking.”
“So if Farrell called him off...”
“We’d probably be okay. But if I know Lloyd, he and Roney boogied back to CASI and have your Russian on ice until they figure out what to do with him. And Heath, Sara and Roney will all be buttoned down tight. Trang won’t allow any contact with the outside world until he’s confident Heath is safe, and given what’s happened so far, Heath will listen to him, at least initially.”
“This is stupid,” I said, anger beginning to lick through me like a slow-moving flame. Because of that anger, I vocalized what I’d thought before Trang went psycho on us. “How did Igor even know who I was, or for that matter, where? Why’d he take shots at me? I don’t know shit. Not only that, he made mistakes pros don’t make. What the hell?”
Summers was quiet for a long moment. “There is that,” he replied slowly, consideringly. “Each of us has survived a threat. We assumed it was because of Heath, but what if it’s not? What if it’s something entirely different?”
I regarded him through wary eyes. “Explain.”
“What if this is still about Burke? None of this really began until you started asking questions about his death.”
“But Farrell’s ex...”
“It happened just a few days ago. That’s why I didn’t know anything about it. It was close hold.”
His word usage, just as it had earlier, spoke to something entirely different than a Harvard education. Summers had spent time on the streets, most likely with cops, or someone less legal. You didn’t pick up that kind of vernacular in the Ivy League. And more interesting still, his thoughts had merit. There was definitely a world-class brain lurking in his runner’s body.
“I’ve been poking around for several weeks,” I mused, “and it might have made me a target. But I didn’t really know anything until yesterday. I’ve gotta tell you, that makes me want to shoot something...or someone. Completely discounting Trang, going back to CASI gives whoever’s behind this one big, shiny target. We need to stay on the move, get some wheels and Bureau protection.”
“Heath won’t like it.”
“Screw Farrell. Suicidal Russians are taking kill-shots, Summers. He fired on a Fed. Whoever is behind this is going down, and in a big way. Let’s be crystal clear on that.”
“I guess it all comes down to motive,” he said so quietly I almost missed it. And then the house we’d been heading to appeared. As a federal agent, I don’t often give in to my more larcenous tendencies, but today was definitely the day to change that.
I wasn’t gentle with the multipaned front door, and bashed it in with an elbow. Glass tinkled dramatically against the entryway floor, and then we were in. I’d arrange for a glazier to be here before nightfall to fix the damage...and leave a note for the homeowners, because I was positive they’d hear about it through the grapevine.
I made a beeline for the landline sitting on the kitchen counter and dialed the Albuquerque field office by memory.
“Agent Thomas here. Is Underwood in?”
The receptionist waited a beat and I knew he was wondering why the hell I was calling when I was supposed to be on vacation.
“One moment,” he finally said, and I waited, listening to mind-numbing Muzak as scenes from the last few days tumbled through my mind. There was a pattern somewhere, damn it. I was just missing it.
And as I analyzed our predicament, I could almost see the wheels turning in my boss’ head four hundred miles away. Then he was on the line, his voice its usual sharp bark of sound, unusually loud due to his use of the speakerphone. “What have you done this time, Thomas?”
I snorted in response. If he only knew. “Got a bit of a situation, sir. I was visiting some old friends in Colorado,” I saw Summers roll his eyes at my imaginative reply, “and someone took a shot at me. Twice.”
“Figures,” Underwood muttered. “Only you could put someone in a killing mode when you’re supposed to be vacationing. Okay, I’ll bite. Any ID on the shooter?”
I noticed he didn’t ask if I was all right. He knew me well enough to know I always came out on top. Probably why he put up with my “style”. “Well, there’s a small complication on that end.”
“Of course there is. Spill.”
“He’s dead. Offed himself via cyanide. We think he might have been Spetsnaz. Oh, and my friend, he’s ex-NSA. He’s got the corpse on ice.”
I could almost imagine Underwood cradling his head in his hands and staring at the phone while he held his tongue. Cursing was something he did rarely and to great effect.
When he finally spoke, it was on a sigh. “Where are you? I’ll get a retrieval team down there, and talk to the judge who has federal jurisdiction in that area. But before I do, what are you doing there? Really.”
This was where it got squirrelly. I could tell him about CASI’s special students, and he might believe me. But probably not. Especially given what I’d learned about Wes’ killing spree...and the fact the Bureau had no idea it’d even occurred. So instead I went with the most viable explanation, and one he’d easily believe, because it was the truth. Sort of. “I was here investigating Burke’s death.”
“You just don’t let anything go, do you, Thomas? You’re going to give me an ulcer.”
“I thought I already had.” Yeah, there’s no lack of sarcasm or smart-assery from me, even in the most inappropriate situations. Like when I was asking for help.
He grunted in response. “Where are you now?”
“Near Colorado Springs. Holed up in a farmhouse. I need wheels.”
The silence stretched for a moment before Underwood posed the obvious question. “Why aren’t you with the body? Let me guess. Another ‘complication’?”
He knew me too well. “Heath Farrell, the NSA operative...well, his head of security is a bit of a freak. Thinks I’m too much of a complication for his primary.”
“And he’d obviously be correct. Give me the address of where you’re at and I’ll get with the Denver Field Office; they can send a few of their Colorado Springs agents over, then the three of you can collect the body and take it to the Denver FO. ”
Summers held out a piece of mail that had been left on the kitchen counter, and I recited the address to Underwood, omitting the fact Summers was in the mix as well. Why I was hiding with a civilian would only complicate things further, never mind the fact that the man in question was irrevocably tied to Farrell. I hung up the phone, knowing Underwood would pass both the address and phone number on to the agents coming to my rescue. That thought grated. I wasn’t traditionally in need of rescue, but now it was happening twice in a matter of hours...first Summers, saving me from Trang, and now my brethren.
“Penny for your thoughts.” Summers stood on the other side of the kitchen island, careful to keep space between us.
I looked him in the eye for the first time since our little altercation in the forest. “My boss is sending a couple of agents to take the Russian to Denver. We’d better at least attempt to call Farrell and Trang, before they start firing on federal officers.”
“We can try. No guarantees anyone’ll even answer the phone, though.”
Summers stepped toward the phone, and in response, I moved away. He shot me a wry look and dialed Farrell’s number.
As he did I watched him. My little revelation in the forest about us tangling up the sheets was now clouded by his manipulation of me, even if it had been for my safety. You know, control angst and all that. I may be attracted to the man, but it was hard, damned hard, to reconcile that attraction against my own issues. I wrote out a quick note to the homeowners as Summers stood there holding the earpiece.
He hung up the phone, a resigned look on his face. “Out of service.”
Trang obviously hadn’t wasted any time. And now, time was something we had in spades, at least until my handlers showed up.
“How do you suggest we get in there?”
“Pull up to the gate in the Bureau car, and state our case through the speaker,” I said simply. “No way in hell Farrell will let Trang pop us if we’re that blatant. Bad publicity and all.”
Summers’ mouth lifted at the corner in a ghost of a grin.
“We’ve got a few minutes before they get here.” I plopped down at the breakfast bar. “So, when did you serve?” It was the only real connection I could come up with. Cops didn’t traditionally become psychiatrists.
His expression went so blank it was as if shutters had fallen over his features. “What makes you ask that?”
“Vocabulary, for one thing. And you moved through the undergrowth too easily. Either you grew up in the country or on the streets and hunted as a hobby, or you served. Pretty simple deduction.”
Summers stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared over my head for a long moment, as if deciding whether to even answer my question.
“I can be a mite pesky when I need to,” I warned. “Answer me now, and I won’t keep asking every thirty seconds until they get here.”
“Isn’t that rather childish?” Now the Harvard veneer was back full throttle.
“Yup, but it usually gets me what I want.”
He snorted. “I’d imagine you always get what you want.”
I nodded. “Most always. So, you gonna answer me?”
“Maybe, if you’ll answer one of my questions.”
I shrugged. “Fair enough.”
“Yeah, I served. I was a Navy corpsman. Went to school on the government’s dime for my undergrad and masters, then got accepted to Harvard for my doctorate.” He shrugged, as if it were no big deal.
Yeah, right. I looked at him for a long moment, then tilted my head. “Okay, your turn.”
“Why do you have such a hard-on for this case? Metaphorically, of course.”
“Of course.” I smiled, but knew it was mostly teeth. “You know enough of my history to realize I hate loose ends. Wes was a loose end.” I flinched internally at that description, because no matter what Wes had done, he’d still been my partner on more than one occasion, both on the job and as my right-hand man while I exacted my revenge. It was still hard for me to reconcile the agent I’d known against the picture Farrell and Summers had painted. With the evidence I’d seen and heard myself, I might never reconcile it, but I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to try to understand how and why my friend had nutted up. For my own peace of mind, if nothing else.
“And now you’re in too deep to back off.”
Well, that was a nice little summary of my involvement. “And getting deeper by the moment, especially after this morning. So, Spetsnaz. How in the hell are they involved?”
Summers dropped into a chair of his own. “I have no freakin’ clue. And I can bet Heath is in the same boat.”
“Okay, then, let’s break this down, since we’ve got the time. I’m going toward contract, just because we’ve seen a good bit of that lately in the Bureau.”
Summers hummed for a long second. “I agree with you in theory, but maybe...” He trailed off, pensive.
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe they’re protecting someone or something back home. That’s the only reason he’d kill himself. Even if they say they’ve been disbanded, the KGB isn’t exactly known for their finesse in recruiting.” His tone said he clearly didn’t believe the propaganda machine. “If they’re running ops in the US...”
I rocked back in my chair. He was one hundred percent on target. I’d been thinking solely of contractors because of the Bureau’s new focus. Some agent I was.
“You’re right. Contractors roll, or offer to plead out. They don’t off themselves.” Then, because I was still cranky about the forest thing and the fact he was right, I let my inner bitch shine. “So who hates you and I enough to send an assassin after us? I may have pissed a few people off in my time in the Bureau, but not to this extent. How about you, Harvard?”
His eyes hardened at the nickname, and I knew I’d struck a nerve. Good. The more distance I put between the two of us, the better, at least until I figured out whether I wanted to slug him or fuck him.
His reply wasn’t all that surprising, mostly because I already knew the answer. “No one. This has to be related to CASI or Burke. It can’t be anything else.”
I mulled that over. He was wrong. Everyone, I don’t care who you are, has someone who’d like to see them dead. I could think of half a dozen within the last six years, never mind my life before the Bureau. Summers had been in the service and had a freak-show “talent”. I could guarantee he’d pissed off someone besides me.
So how much was I going to spill to Underwood when I finally debriefed him? It was highly unlikely he’d believe me, especially since Wes’ killing spree had never even registered as a blip on their radar.
And because of that, I couldn’t very well announce that this attempt on my life was connected. For starters, I still wasn’t completely certain it was. Yeah, Farrell had connected the dots between what happened three months ago and now, but I was still banking on someone going after him, and using Summers and I as target practice. Whether they were on our soil as a Russian Federation assassin, or a contractor for someone else, it didn’t really matter.
The shot that counted was the one taken against me, and for that I could involve the Bureau.
“I’m going to let Farrell handle the Bureau. Tell them what they need to know for now. Given how deep his connections run, they’ll take what he says a hell of a lot more seriously than they would from me.” Which was true, but was also a test for Farrell. If he screwed me over, his secret little school would be on the front page of every traditional and internet news organization in twenty-four hours.
Pettiness isn’t my greatest trait, but I’d be lying if I said I never went there.
“Because you’ve been a pain in their ass more than once.” There was no hint of amusement in his voice, just professional banality.
“There is that. But mostly because Underwood needs to see something to believe it. Unless you and Sara are willing to pony up your abilities for his amusement, then I just don’t see him buying the truth.”
Summers was studying me openly, and I wondered what he saw that was so damned interesting. But I kept my trap shut, because that would be giving his nonverbals too much power, show him too much. About my impatience, and whether I actually gave a damn what he thought.
He tilted his head as he continued to eyeball me. It was like he was trying to crawl inside my head, but strangely enough, it wasn’t creepy, just...intense. “No,” he finally said, “I’m not willing to put my abilities up for show-and-tell, and I doubt Sara is either. Heath is fast on his feet. He’ll figure something out. And as soon as he takes care of that, he needs to put a leash on Trang.”
“Yeah, there is that.” I nodded. “It surprises me Farrell would keep a loose cannon like that around.”
“Trang’s a Null, like Roney.”
Meaning no one could read them. Convenient. I’d learned a bit about Nulls last night from Farrell and Summers, but now Trang’s knee-jerk in the forest began to make sense, in a very scary way. Trang was using his Nullness as a shield of sorts, a justification for any action he chose to take on behalf of his principal because no one could read him. Overzealous didn’t even begin to cover it, and made me wonder about what was ticking in the little man’s brain. Or rather, not ticking.
“As a mental health professional, what do you make of Trang’s actions today?”
“Are you asking if he’s a sociopath?”
Damn, was he reading my mind? “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“It’s a thought I’ve had more than once, but sociopaths usually only care about their own actions. Trang is totally invested in Heath, so if he is, he’s an anomaly. You’ve seen what he’ll do for Farrell.”
“Which is why the only way I can think of getting into CASI right now is by using the Bureau. Unless you think he’d let you in?” I leaned back in my chair, wondering what other questions I should be peppering him with while we had the time. Nothing came to mind.
He shook his head. “No, he’s smart enough to realize what I did. By now Roney will be questioning what the hell really happened, maybe cluing Heath in, but I’d rather not bet either of our necks on it.”
Yeah, that rang true, or at least as much as I was going to concede. The facts all said he was as much a pawn in this as I was now. Well, one with a super-duper power, but still. I just needed to figure out if the facts equated to truth.
My original goal when I’d pulled through the gates this morning hadn’t changed. Once we retrieved Igor’s body, I was going to do my thing from the outside. My truck might be toast, but I’d pick up a rental and fade into the woodwork.
“So when do the children arrive at CASI?” I seriously doubted Farrell would want to endanger them, given his reaction to his own family’s trauma. Then again, anyone with pockets deep enough to buy a Spetsnaz assassin, or worse yet, the KGB, could probably track down the students if they wanted to. I said as much to Summers.
“You think just like Heath. We moved the kids to an alternate facility last week, until we figured out what was going on.”
“Why aren’t you with them?”
He fidgeted a bit. “We didn’t know if my talent would be needed here.”
Ah. He didn’t like wielding his talent. I hadn’t caught that before. Earlier, he’d been resigned when he’d shown me his talent. And in the forest, he’d been caretaking, even if his methods pissed me the hell off. So why was he twitchy now?
Apparently I waited a bit too long to respond. “Listen, I know you don’t really buy what Heath and I are trying to do at CASI, and I get that. But you don’t know what it’s like to be different than everyone around you. To never be really, truly understood by even your family. These kids? We’re helping them to hone their powers, yes, but we’re also giving them a family, someplace to come home to when they’re not sure what to do next. And I happen to think that’s worth fighting for.” He trailed off, as if he’d run out of breath.
“I understand more than you think,” I said, using more tact than even I was used to. “So, what other kinds of talents are there?” It was a rough segue, but probably info I needed, for background if nothing else. And his declaration that I didn’t, couldn’t understand his isolation? Well, you didn’t have to be Talented to be in the same boat. I should know. Loneliness was universal. But that was a story for another day.
I could see his relief. This was something he could put a definitive answer to. “Most of the stuff everyone blows off as crazy or National Enquirer fodder. You know how Men in Black and the X-Files used tabloids as information sources? Not too far off...we scan them all the time to see what’s happening out there.”
“So it’s not just the school honing kids’ abilities? You’re looking further out than that.” I wondered if Summers knew how much he was revealing, right this second.
He answered, his enthusiasm rising. “It’s bigger than that, or will be, if we can get it off the ground. In this first class we’ve seen precogs like Burke, aura readers like Sara, even a few empaths and psychometrists.” He locked his gaze with mine, and his burned with almost evangelical fervor. “We’re not doing this to take advantage of these children, Arin. We’re saving them. It’s more than being lonely. Can you imagine growing up, having an ability no one can explain, thinking you’re crazy? Seeing the people you love turn away from you when they figure out you’re different?”
Ah, and there was the crux of it. It made me thaw a helluva lot more than I might have expected. Someone had hurt Summers. Someone he’d loved a lot. “I can’t, but you can, and have. How in the hell did you conceal your ability when you were in the Navy?” I might have been tactful until now, but there was no way I was avoiding this. How he answered was important.
“I learned to master it,” he answered, never breaking our eye contact. The turmoil rolling behind his gaze tore at my heart, yanking down my traditional defenses with little effort. This man had known pain, had known it alone. We were more alike than he could imagine.
“My father had the same talent, was in and out of psych wards for years when the cops couldn’t make charges stick. Mom figured it out and tried to help him, but it was too late. We both thought the military would be a good way for me to learn control in all things. We were right. Mostly.”
I couldn’t have curbed the look of amazement on my face if I tried, so I let it rip. He’d opened himself up in a huge way, more than I’d asked for, more than I would have ever expected. Why? What did he hope to gain in return?
“Nothing,” he said, and grinned at me. “I don’t want anything from you. And no, I can’t read minds...your expression says it all.” He shrugged. “I think you were right, earlier, about working from the outside. It just took me a while to accept it. After we get Trang sorted out, I’d like to go with you. Sitting back at CASI won’t do us one bit of good, not when I have to be touching someone to deploy my talent. You might need me.”
I looked at him as my thoughts whirled. His openness had been a bargaining tactic, a way for him to see some action instead of sitting back at CASI safe and sound. I understood it, but I didn’t like the fact he was right, just as much as my being correct had chafed at him earlier. We were well matched in that, at least. And because it’d be dumb to be headstrong about this, I acquiesced. Why wouldn’t I? Anything else was stupid pride, and pride could get you killed.
“Fine,” I said, “but we need ground rules. Your talent stays ‘off’ when it comes to me. No more manipulation, even if you think it’s for my safety. We both have control issues, and I think we realize it, yes?”
He nodded in response, the light of battle coming in to his eyes, and in that moment I realized how truly underutilized he’d been as CASI’s headmaster. He had a warrior’s heart, and shame on Farrell for not seeing it...and exploiting it.
“How much of a fuss is Farrell going to put up when you tell him?” I settled back in my chair, keeping one eye on the big picture window up front and the road winding down the mountain to the freeway. I’d just as soon be waiting for the agents when they drove up, rather than having them catch us unaware. Professional pride and all that.
“He’ll go for it,” Summers said confidently. “Heath is no fool. This is bigger than any of us thought, and camping out at CASI isn’t going to do anyone any good. Trang won’t let Heath out of there, but we both know he won’t bat an eye about you and I or Brian and Sara leaving. Less for him to worry about.”
I saw a flash of sunlight on windshield, and stood, unholstering my piece. “Agreed.” Summers stood as well. “Either our ride is here, or we’ve got company.”
We stepped onto the porch and around the corner, just in case, but in moments it was clear the car was a fed-mobile SUV, distinguishable by the smoked windows and plethora of antennas that made it possible to work in remote locations.
The two agents who stepped out of the truck were such stereotypes I had to bite back a smile. Blank-faced, sunglass-wearing, dark-suited G-men. I half expected them to be named Agents J and K.
Summers and I hopped into the second-row seats, and I briefed them about what we’d be facing as we made the reasonably short trek to CASI. To give them credit, neither agent batted an eye when I told them the body we’d be picking up was likely Spetsnaz, and had killed himself like some Cold War spy. It wasn’t as if they wouldn’t see it in a few minutes anyway...and smell it on the long drive to Denver.
We pulled up the road to CASI, and to the closed gate. Our driver rolled down the window, but stayed well back in the cab of the truck, as I’d directed.
“Mr. Trang, I’m from the Colorado Springs FBI Resident Agency. With me is Agent Arin Thomas and Dr. Summers. We are here on federal authority to remove the body you have in possession and transport it to Denver. As you well know, the perpetrator fired on a FBI agent, making this a federal case. Open your gates now.” His voice was controlled and almost reasonable, but still commanding.
There was no response for long moments, and he repeated his statement, this time more firmly.
When a voice replied, it wasn’t Trang, but Farrell. “Let me talk to Jonah first, please.”
Summers leaned forward, between the two agents, and raised his voice. “I’m here, Heath, but no way in hell are any of us stepping out of this truck unless you’ve got Trang on a leash.”
When Farrell came back over the speaker box, his voice was tired. “Brian’s got him secured.” The big gates swung open. “Come on in, we’ve got a lot to talk about.”
––––––––
That was the understatement of the year. As soon as the Colorado Springs guys heaved Igor’s body in the back of the SUV and headed up to Denver, with me promising to give a statement via telephone to their SAIC who happened to be an old friend, we all sat down, minus Trang.
“He’s secured. Roney confronted him when Trang wanted to stop looking for you.” Farrell rubbed a hand over his eyes. “He said we’d all be better off if the two of you were gone, that your unpredictability made you better decoys than assets.” He paused and slanted a glance at Roney.
The big man shrugged and finished the tale. “I’ve known Trang long enough to know he’d address your ‘unpredictability’ at some point, if he hadn’t already. It was safer to get him back here and under wraps before we sent out a search party for you two. You beat us to the punch.”
Farrell cleared his throat. “Please accept my apologies, Agent Thomas.”
It was pretty easy to see he was telling the truth. I couldn’t decide if it made me feel better or worse. What the hell was I supposed to say to him? I could act all outraged, but where would that get us? Instead I opted for rational.
“The next time I see him with a weapon I’m drawing on him. At least until I’m satisfied I’m in no danger.” That was a pretty massive concession on my part and Farrell knew it. He nodded, his mouth a tight line.
“And there’s no holding back information. Not now, when any of us could be a target. I don’t care if you think it’s unimportant or so secret it violates national security. Clear?”
Farrell nodded again. I could see the respect in his gaze. If I’d rolled, or just let bygones by bygones, he’d be walking all over me right about now.
“All right then,” I said. “It doesn’t change my plans about working this from the outside, but first we need to talk about Igor’s motive. Farrell, did he look familiar to you? Someone from your past, maybe?”
Farrell shook his head. “The Russian Federation wasn’t my area of specialty. No reason for this guy to be after me.”
I turned my attention to Summers, but already knew the answer, since we’d hashed it out not an hour before. But the others needed to hear it. “How about you, Summers?”
His reply mirrored Farrell’s. “Nope, never seen him before.”
I blew out a breath. “Okay then, to summarize. Two months ago Wes Burke died after attempting to dethrone you from what? Meece? CASI?”
“Meece,” Farrell replied tightly. “But that wasn’t really it either. It was his excuse, his rationale. He was getting revenge for what was done to him here, and what Green did to him later.”
I nodded in acceptance. “Then your ex and kids almost get kidnapped by at least three goons.” I stopped. Three? Why hadn’t we gone down this road before? This completely changed the dynamic of the lone, for-hire or pissed-off gunman. Or hell, even the state-sanctioned assassin. From what I’d heard, they rarely worked in anything larger than pairs, and certainly not this clumsily. Jesus. There could be three of them out there using us as target practice. Natch, make that two. Maybe.
I did a quick recalculation in my head—this was going to change the bottom line I’d figured out so far. Three of these guys equated to serious bank, or a serious commitment on the part of the KGB or some other Russian alphabet soup agency. The guys in counterintel could give better numbers, but I’d bet we were starting to talk seven figures now, if this was a contracted operation.
Three also effectively killed Summers’ theory. I couldn’t buy three men whose families were being threatened cooperating together to this extent. One of them would have rolled by now to the FBI or CIA in exchange for their family’s safety. But it was still a variable, no matter how farfetched.
I continued with my run-down, working toward my main point. “Your ex got away, but after the kidnappers taunted her with the ‘got away from us once’ gig.”
Farrell’s expression was angry now, but this needed to be said aloud to the whole team, not just in my head. “Until that point, the assumption was they were after you again. And then I crashed into the middle of it because of an anonymous call. Pretty convenient. My arrival didn’t change anything, really, though. Farrell was and is the target, based upon what happened with Wes and his ex. Then they took a shot at Summers.”
I waited a beat. “Can you honestly tell me three guys can identify your ex, but not you, Farrell? That they wouldn’t have known they were sniping the wrong guy when they sited Summers.”
He responded with a grunt that could have meant anything.
“Then we get to nosey me. Can you see the connections here? Or lack thereof? Put it all together. Igor was obviously sent to take out anyone from this facility. I can guarantee if any of the rest of you had poked your nose out, the result would have been the same.
“But now I’ve offed one of them.”
Summers was eyeing me with that tactical stare again.
“So,” I said, wrapping it all up. “Having said all that, there has to be a puppet master, pulling both Wes and these Russians strings. Whether it’s a private party or mother Russia herself.” There, that was what I’d been building to.
But Summers was shaking his head. “Heath still has some connections on high. If these instances were connected, he would have heard about it by now, whether it was a private contractor or another government.”
“Hell, I would’ve known if it was our government,” Farrell said mildly. “If it was just about taking me out, they would have done it a long time ago, Trang or no Trang. Even he’s not that good at protection.”
I sat back in my chair, pissed that they were blowing off obvious facts. Maybe because there weren’t any other viable alternatives. Then again, Summers was right; Farrell was still wired into the NSA, and they’d have passed on anything of interest. Still, no G-men had known about Wes either.
Maybe I was on my own on this one. It’d suck, but wasn’t exactly the first time. “I stand by what I said. I don’t think you should discount it so easily. If someone had been behind Wes’ actions, who would you think of first?”
Farrell snorted in response to my question, obviously feeling a bit vindicated now. “Don’t you think Trang and I went over this? As well as Sara and Roney and hell, even Monica Foudy. We followed up anything we found and got nothing.”
My ears perked up at the new name. “Who’s Monica Foudy?” If they weren’t going to listen to me, maybe I could use this new avenue. My butt was on the line now too.
“A pain in my ass,” Farrell muttered.
“She was Dallas PD, but now she’s a PI.” Roney cast a grin Farrell’s way. “One of my best friends, and a pain in Heath’s ass.”
“Is she a possible target? Like Brian and Sara?” I figured she must not be if Trang had let her go unprotected, but figured I had to ask.
“No, her involvement in Burke’s case was incidental. She was there for the whole thing, but never enough to put her in anyone’s crosshairs.” Sara interjected, which surprised me. She’d kept almost mum since we’d returned. “It wouldn’t hurt to call her, though, and make sure she’s taking precautions. Make sure everything’s okay.” She said the last sentence as if everything hadn’t been okay a few months ago. I let it slide because it didn’t affect the here and now, but filed it away as something to explore later if need be.
Roney volunteered to make the call, and we were back to square one. I fidgeted in my seat. I still thought I was right, but I wasn’t all that eager to wander into the unknown without a modicum of a plan. And right now, my brain pan was fried. This morning, sure, I’d been all about action, but that was before Igor had taken a shot at me. It was personal now, not just a science project on my days off.
If nothing else, I had to make a statement to the SAIC in Denver, and there was no time like the present. Maybe if I was nice and buttered him up, they’d give me deets on anything that turned up with Igor.
And after that, I was going to do some digging on Heath Farrell. Because even if Igor had been one of the three that tried to abduct Farrell’s ex, and I suspected he was, there were still two more out there.