Cassandra sat back in her chair. Then she leaned forward and read the message from Skull again, still puzzled. Where the hell did this come from?
She realized it could mean only one thing. Shawna Nightingale had admitted to contacting her, which Skull would interpret as spymistress-style manipulation…and he hated to be manipulated.
Damned amateurs.
Cassandra pulled Shawna’s contact info from the five dozen emails she’d sent in the last few days, and brought up the videoconferencing app. It chimed seven or eight times, trying to connect, before it activated.
Shawna wore a robe and rubbed her eyes as she appeared in front of the camera, the room behind her still shrouded in darkness.
“Finally, Cassie! Tell me you found something out!”
“Not yet,” said Cassandra. “This is about something else.”
“Something else?”
“Yeah, I just got a really strange email from Alan. You didn’t tell him anything you shouldn’t have, did you?”
Before Cassandra’s eyes, Shawna’s face transformed from confused to disappointed to angry to furious in quick succession. “Are you shitting me?”
“So that’s a yes?”
“You don’t return any of my calls. Your emails just say not to worry. You tell me to do it your way, but you aren’t any closer to helping my husband. When you finally do contact me you give me crap about talking to Alan about you?”
“We’re working hard to find Larry, but throwing my name into the mix only muddies the waters. I need to know how much he knows.”
“He knows everything I know!” Shawna nearly screamed. “At least he returns my calls. He said Larry’s been sent to one of those death camps in eastern Tennessee. Bet you didn’t even know that.”
Cassandra ignored the jibe. “Yes, Camp Pleasant. What else did he say?”
“That he’s Larry’s best chance of returning home.”
“Shawna, you shouldn’t have done that. I trusted you to let the professionals handle this.”
“Yeah, right. I’m sitting here not knowing anything and you’re playing your reindeer games, not getting shit done!”
“That’s not true.”
“Then why won’t you tell me anything?”
For a split second Cassandra let her professional detachment slip and put herself in the other woman’s shoes; to imagine the sanity-threatening worry, the children’s questions, the loneliness and pain.
Then she shut that down. Getting emotional never helped anything, especially with out-of-control friends.
Or with Skull. She pushed thoughts of him away as well, hoping this wouldn’t be the one that killed him.
She did care, after all.
“Do you have a way to contact Alan other than his secure email drop?”
Cassandra saw Shawna hesitate.
“Please, it’s important. I need to talk to him. If he’s already involved, I might as well help him any way I can.”
“Fine,” Shawna finally answered. “He gave me a cell phone number. It’s not secure, but it’s a burner.” She recited the number.
“I’ll get back to you soon,” said Cassandra.
“I’ve heard that before.” Before Cassandra could respond, Shawna ended the call.
Cassandra reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a satellite phone handset. The number Shawna had given her rang several times before Skull’s unmistakable voice answered. “I’m driving south now. Don’t know anything more yet, but hopefully I will soon.”
“It’s me,” Cassandra said, avoiding any keywords for the NSA computers to pluck from the air. “She gave me this number.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you kept out of this.”
“Not going to happen.”
“There’s no need for you to go. I have friends already vacationing in the area. They’re taking a pleasant camping trip.”
“I understand.”
“They can let the songbird loose without your help.” Get it, Skull, she willed silently. Songbird, Nightingale…
“I’m already on the way. I might as well crash the party. Do a few shots, spike the punch.”
“You might just get them busted. I’d rather you sit this one out.”
“Why, that almost sounds like you care.”
“I do care. About you, about them…too many cooks will spoil this soup.”
“I like soup. I’m not going away. How about you accept that and help me to help them?”
“You won’t like one of the vacationers. I’d rather you and he stayed out of each others’ way.”
Silence. “Our Asian friend?”
“That’s the one.”
“I won’t…do any shots with him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Or vice versa.”
“Let me handle it. Now give me the info. The longer we talk, the more likely someone notices.”
Cassandra sighed. “Last I heard, they’re taking down the campsite tomorrow night, but they don’t know about the songbird. You sure you won’t walk away? I can get you whatever money you need.”
“This isn’t about money. I made a promise, and the songbird is a friend of mine. Now how about you email me their contact info? It will make things a lot easier.”
***
Skull ended the call and pulled over into a rest stop, parking far from anyone else. He removed the battery and SIM card from the burner phone. Opening his door, he dropped the phone and card on the pavement to crush them underfoot, never leaving his seat. He drove over the mess as he accelerated back onto the road, and then tossed the battery out onto the grassy verge.
Was that all on the level? Is Cassandra manipulating me again? Hell, did she somehow put Shawna up to getting me involved, knowing full well I wouldn’t do it for mere money, especially with Spooky in the mix? Reverse psychology, maybe? “Oh, please, Alan, don’t fling yourself into that briar patch!”
Well, it hardly matters now. I’m a man with a mission. A bullet in the gun.
Forcing himself to remain calm, Skull rode in silence, thinking.