Page 75

“Roger that,” Bo said A few moments later, he and Frankie exited the store. They got into his car and left the parking lot, picking up Hala on the way.

We were the last of the team to exit the parking lot. Everyone, except for us, was headed back to the farmhouse to eat and catch some more sleep. Wally, Mike, and I were headed to the nearest McDonald’s to monitor the burner phones from the parking lot, waiting and praying Remington would call Sampson soon.

I stared at my laptop nervously. I expected Remington to call the moment he was back on the road. But the minutes ticked by, and Remington still didn’t call.

Why?

“Are you sure he hasn’t activated the burner yet?” I asked Mike.

Mike lifted his gaze from his screen. “Nope. He hasn’t made any calls yet. Give him time.”

I swallowed my frustration. Time was something we didn’t have. But Mike was right. We had to be patient. We couldn’t do anything until he used the doctored burner phone. Until then, we needed to sit tight and wait.

I closed my eyes, willing Remington to pick up the phone and make the call. He justhadto do it.

Otherwise, we were in a lot of trouble.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

ISAAC REMINGTON

Isaac drove to work, his thoughts consumed with his forthcoming interview with the director of national intelligence and the White House chief of staff. He needed their support for the presidential appointment as NSA director. He’d hoped to have brought the Hidden Avenger in by that time, since presenting his capture to them would have been like a hunting trophy. That would have sealed his nomination and selection as director for certain.

Now, it was all up in the air.

Still, he had twenty-four hours, and a lot could be accomplished in that time. He needed to put the final squeeze on Sinclair. Turning off the radio, he reached into the bag and pulled out one of his new burner phones. When he stopped at a light, he quickly set up the phone and punched in the numbers. While it seemed to go through, he got…nothing.

“What the devil?” he said, trying again.

A car honked at him from behind. The light had turned green. Annoyed, he dropped the dud phone on the passenger seat and drove on. “Cheap phones,” he grumbled. “No wonder they were two for one. One of them had better work.”

At the next light, he grabbed the other phone and set it up. This one worked perfectly. He punched in the number to Sampson.

“Yes?” Sampson answered.

“I need some movement today. I’m going to put the squeeze on Candace to see what she knows. I want you focused on locating the Sinclair girl. You find her today or we move on.”

“Will do. So, what happens if the worm doesn’t show by tonight?”

“We get rid of the bird permanently and move on. I’m not waiting any longer. That will send Sinclair a clear message: we intend to go through his family, one by one, until we get to him. He comes to me with the back door tonight, or he doesn’t come at all. No more games. Our nation’s welfare is at stake.”

“Understood.”

“We have just over twenty-four hours until the NSA director’s meeting. Don’t disappoint me, Glen.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t.”

ANGEL SINCLAIR

I almost vomited when I heard Remington’s last statement. It was like someone had punched me hard in the stomach. “OMG! They’re going to kill my mom tonight. That was something we didn’t expect.”

Mike put a hand on my arm. “Whoa. Calm down, Angel. We’renotgoing to let that happen.”

Wally turned around in the driver’s seat. “Mike’s right, Angel. We’re not going to let that happen. We need to stay focused and put the next phase of our plan into action. We text Sampson from a new burner phone, claiming to be Remington, and require him to relay the so-called bird removal message in person to whoever is holding her. Then we follow Sampson to your mom. We’ve got this.”

They were both right, but my stomach was churning with so much anxiety it threatened to derail me. I wanted to scream, cry, hurl, and rage, all at the same time. Instead, I took several deep breaths. I couldn’t lose it at this critical juncture. I needed to stay calm and in charge to help my mom.

I pressed my hand against my head, willing myself to think. “I don’t think we can handle this last part on our own. Not anymore. We need help.”