With Annie huddled between him and Sam again, Trace hustled her into the hotel room. A million alarms blazed when he registered a man and two children sitting at the small dining table in the far corner of the room. He nearly dropped Annie.
“Uh,” Houston punched to his feet and pointed to another man. “Dr. Foster is here.”
“Got it,” Boone said, nodding Trace toward the others with a take care of it look as he slipped in and aided Sam in delivering Annie to the bedroom.
A short, stout man with dark hair and a medical bag rushed after them.
Trace closed the door and locked it, then turned to face the others. He rested his hand on his Glock.
The side door opened and Téya emerged with a middle-aged woman with wet brown hair. She wore clothes that didn’t quite fit her short frame.
Téya’s eyes widened. “Commander.” She waved the woman to the table, then went and passed the woman a bowl from a room service dining cart.
“Anyone want to fill me in?” he asked as he watched the woman cast nervous glances at the man.
“Commander,” Téya said in a voice that was entirely too calm. “This is Carl Loring and his wife, Sharlene.”
Stunned, he stared at the couple. The children. So, Zulu had accomplished their objective. “What took so long to find them?”
Nuala rose from a chair where she’d sat undetected until now. “The slums—it’s like its own small city. It’s a”—Noodle’s gaze darted to Téya’s—“miracle, really, that we found them at all.”
“We were hiding,” Carl Loring said. “And when you don’t want to be found in a place like that, it’s possible to stay hidden for. . .” He shrugged. “Probably forever.”
Something smelled rotten. Trace stared at Téya. Then Nuala. They wouldn’t look at him. Or at each other.
“I can help you,” Loring said. “I was the financial officer for HOMe for the last eight years.”
“So why are you living in the slums?” Trace folded his arms.
“Hiding in the slums,” Loring corrected, then glanced at his wife. “We aren’t sure what changed, but about two months ago, a man came to our door. He said some things were going to come to light, but if I’d help him, he’d make sure my family and I were safe.”
“What things?”
“Financial statements. Black market transactions between HOMe and various organizations.”
Trace scowled and searched their faces. “You have this proof?”
“N–no,” Loring muttered, looking to his wife. “I was in the process of uncovering the information when everything went crazy.”
“Someone burned down our home,” Mrs. Loring said, her eyes glossy.
“He got us into the slum and told us to stay there. Then he came to me early this morning and said you would help.”
“Who are you talking about?” Trace asked. “Who told you we’d help?”
“Not you, he said she would.” Mr. Loring pointed to Téya. “Miss Reiker.”
Trace unfolded his arms and pulled straight. “Who gave you her name?”
“The man,” he said, flicking a finger in the air around his cheekbone. “He said you saved his life, so he owed you.”
Téya darted her gaze around nervously, swallowing.
“Who?” Trace demanded.
Wetting her lips, Téya drew up her shoulders. Let out a long breath. “The Turk.”
“You saw The Turk and didn’t tell me?”
“I shot him.” She said it so plainly as if she were telling him about a doughnut she ate. “It was a mistake. He was going to die, so—”
“You should’ve let him!”
Téya’s eyes flashed. “I wanted answers.”
“You only needed one—that he was dead!”
Trace’s phone buzzed. “We’ll sort this out in Virginia.” He pivoted to Houston, who sat with his head down, hand over his mouth. “Get us back there, Houston. ASAP.”
The geek nodded and went to work.
Livid and boiling, Trace moved to the private suite. His phone buzzed again and he lifted it, checked the caller ID, and answered. “General, how are you?”
“Trace, sit down.”
Stilled by those words, Trace felt as he had the night of the warehouse disaster. “What’s wrong?”
“Know I’d rather spit on this than tell you, but—”
“Just say it,” Trace bit out.
“You are being ordered back to DC. General Leland Marlowe has given orders for you to stand down all operations and return to DC at once to stand before a full congressional hearing regarding Misrata.”
The world whooshed out from under Trace’s feet. “They can’t do this. I was already cleared.”
“Separate charge, Trace. They can and they are. You are temporarily relieved of duty until this matter is settled.”