Page 34

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

C allan itched to wrap his hands around the traitor’s throat again, only this time, he wouldn’t let up. He longed to see this gray-haired man breathe his last.

But he didn’t. Not because of any moral qualms but because he needed to focus.

Alyssa was right about that.

She’d gone with her mother and sisters, and he was glad she was safe and separate from all this craziness. But he wished she were here.

He needed her.

They were in a small, private dining room as lavish as the rest of the club. They’d pushed the table and most of the chairs to one side, then shoved Robert into a chair in the center of the space.

Callan was seated in front of him, inches away.

Grant loomed behind him, making just enough noise to remind the older man he was there. A solid intimidation tactic.

Callan and Grant hadn’t had to do much to start Robert talking. They’d threatened him, and when he’d looked at Gavin for help, Alyssa’s father had focused on Callan, saying, “Do whatever you have to do. I’ll make sure nobody interrupts.” And then he'd stepped out, closing the door behind him.

The man had spilled everything, talking so fast his words tripped over each other on their way out of his mouth.

A man who’d called himself Abraham had paid Robert to put a listening device in the small office where Gavin often conducted business.

Abraham. Very similar to Ebrahimi. As in Fatemeh Ebrahemi, the name of the woman Ghazi had loved.

It all made so much sense.

“When was that?” Callan asked.

“January, I think.” He must’ve seen something in Callan’s expression because he hurried to say, “Definitely January.”

“How do you remember?”

“It was after that big blizzard. We had to hire extra people to clear the road.”

Specific enough memory that Callan believed him.

Robert went on to explain that in February, Abraham had paid Robert to pass along information about Gavin.

“What kind of information?”

“He didn’t say. Just asked for anything I heard, anything I knew. When he was at the club, when he was going to be gone, who he met with. I didn’t think it mattered.” His voice was pleading. “Anyone watching the entrance could see when he was here. I thought…I thought…”

Ghazi was a master manipulator. He’d started small, drawing Robert in. A hundred thousand here, another hundred thousand there. Easy money, especially considering, as far as Robert could tell, nothing was being done with the information.

“I didn’t plan to pass along anything important,” Robert said. “And nothing bad happened to Mr. Wright. I thought, what did it matter? If this fool wanted to pay me, then why not? And I could pay off debts and?—”

“Why not?” Callan got in his face. “How about the fact that Gavin Wright is a former intelligence officer with the CIA? How about the fact that your Abraham is a terrorist?”

That had color draining from Robert’s face. “I didn’t know.”

“Irrelevant,” Callan snapped.

Alyssa hadn’t known, either, when she’d started working for the man known as Charles.

Grant clamped a hand on Robert’s shoulder, and he jumped like a skittish cat.

“For future reference,” Grant said, “most terrorists won’t tell you up front what they’re up to.”

“Yes, yes. I…” He seemed unsure what to say. “I was stupid.”

“What happened next?”

“This morning, Abraham asked me to add a name to the guest list for the party.”

Robert must’ve told Ghazi all about the party, long before Alyssa had mentioned it.

“One name.” His tone was pleading. “Someone called Benson.”

The big blond guard had Peri.

Callan’s Peri.

“I thought it wouldn’t matter,” Robert said. “Mr. Wright always has security. I thought?—”

“You thought you’d get paid. A man is dead.” He’d barely let himself think about the silent guard who’d given his life. “And my daughter is gone. But the devil with whoever got hurt.”

Robert’s face crumpled, and he dropped his head. “I didn’t know. I just…I didn’t know.”

Yeah.

When Callan’s phone rang, he let Grant take over questioning and answered. “Is he in custody?”

“He wasn’t there.” Malcolm’s words were dark as a grave. “The place was empty.”

Ghazi had escaped.

Of course he’d escaped. Callan had expected it. Even so, he couldn’t help his fury. “You lost him?” Callan’s raised voice had both Grant and Robert looking at him. He turned his back. “How could you let that happen?”

“Ghazi and his men must’ve gone through the backyard, like you and Alyssa did.”

“That didn’t cross your mind?”

“Of course it did.” Malcolm seemed to be working for a civil tone. “I don’t know what happened, but I’ll find out.”

“That’s going to do me a lot of good. I thought you said they heard people inside.”

“They must’ve recorded days of sounds. It was playing. They fooled us.”

Ghazi was ten moves ahead, and Callan was still studying the stupid game board.

“What have you learned?” Malcolm asked.

He filled his boss in, then ended the call and conferred with Grant. They’d gotten all the information they were going to get from Robert.

As much as Callan would like to take out his frustration on the old man’s face, nothing mattered except getting Peri back. Not vengeance. Not answers, not unless they led somewhere. And what Robert had to say didn’t help. At all.

He summoned two police officers who were waiting just outside the door. Somehow, Gavin had kept them at bay.

The man had some serious pull.

The cops took the club manager, and then Gavin stepped into the smaller room. “Tell me what?—”

“You told me you were going to keep her safe,” Callan said, “and then you sent her off with?—”

“My wife and daughter, and my most trusted guard. Do you think I’d have put any of them in danger?”

“You did put them in danger.”

“I didn’t know, Templeton. I trusted the wrong man. My contact called me as we were leaving. I thought it would be better to get the information right away.” His gaze flicked to Grant, as if not wanting to say more in front of his own nephew.

At this point, Callan trusted Grant, whom he’d never heard of before that day, far more than he trusted Alyssa’s father. He’d learned Grant had been a Green Beret and then a bodyguard before becoming a detective.

Callan didn’t know Grant’s story, but he seemed like a soldier who understood. A man who’d fight to save the innocent.

To save Peri.

Callan wasn’t so sure about Gavin Wright, but he trusted Grant.

Grant’s gaze flicked from one to another, but he said nothing.

“He’s fine.” Callan sat again, giving Grant a quick update on what they knew about Ghazi, the zero-day exploit, and the spy they assumed was the terrorist’s target. He focused on Gavin, asking, “What did you learn?”

Before he could answer, a soft knock sounded on the door, and then Alyssa stepped inside. She’d changed her clothes and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. “Hey.” She scanned the room and then approached Callan and lowered to her knees at his feet. “How are you?”

Stupid emotion clogged his throat. He didn’t answer.

Gavin and Grant both stepped away, giving them privacy. Which Callan appreciated because, suddenly, he felt overwhelmed. Overwrought.

“Any news?”

He shook his head. “Nothing important. I think your dad learned something, but I don’t know what yet.” He expected Alyssa to grab a chair and listen in.

But she didn’t move. “I am so sorry this is happening.”

“It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have left her. I shouldn’t have brought her here.”

“Don’t do that.” She settled her cool palms on his face. “You are a good father. And we’re going to get your daughter back. I promise.”

More than anything, he wanted to believe her. He just didn’t know how.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him, and for the briefest moment, he allowed it. Allowed himself to be weak and honest, trusting Alyssa with this deep, vulnerable part of himself.

“I’m sorry.” Her words were barely a whisper as she backed away and stood. “I’m going back to the library to work on the zero-day. We might need it for leverage. You let me know if I can help.”

She started to walk away, but he caught her hand.

She turned back to him.

I love you.

I need you.

But he couldn’t say the words.

He couldn’t think past the fear clogging his throat.

Alyssa held his eye contact, and he saw everything in her eyes. His own love returned.

His future.

But there was nothing, nothing beyond this moment. There was no future. And if Peri didn’t come home, there never would be.

Alyssa let him go and walked away.

Gavin closed the door behind her. “Sputnik is in the States.”

Callan had suspected that.

“After the kerfuffle in Munich last fall.” He glanced at Grant. “The one involving Bryan and his fiancée…” He waited, maybe to see if Grant would question him.

The man just nodded for him to continue. If the kerfuffle was news to him, he hid it well. Callan guessed that he knew all about what his brothers had been up to.

“Sputnik’s higher-ups decided he’d been turned,” Gavin said. “They came after him, but he escaped. He’s been in hiding and working his way west ever since. He flew to Montreal by way of Paris and made it across the border into Vermont a month ago.”

Callan needed this information, but in the short term, how would it help find Peri?

“Monday night.” Callan had just remembered what Alyssa said earlier. “You’re supposed to be in DC, right?”

The older man’s head lowered and rose. “I wasn’t sure exactly what it was, only that my presence was requested. The call I got confirmed that there’s a private dinner for a handful of people who’ve been involved with Sputnik over the years, a way to acknowledge the sacrifices he’s made.”

“How does Ghazi know?”

“He’s got a source.”

Which meant they needed to keep this circle very small. “Where is this dinner supposed to take place?”

Gavin named a DC hotel. A giant hotel with hundreds of rooms, potentially thousands of guests at any given time.

Callan thought of the zero-day exploit.

He thought of the attack drones that could be commandeered if the exploit were turned over.

He imagined Sputnik, Gavin, and everyone who’d ever supported the double-agent’s activities, sitting at tables and sharing stories.

“That’s the target,” Grant said. “A drone strike could take out the entire hotel and everyone inside.”

All in the name of vengeance. But none of it could happen without the zero-day. Which meant…

“Alyssa.” Callan launched to his feet.

He should’ve anticipated…

When she’d come in just now, it wasn’t just to check on him. It was to say goodbye.

Gavin’s eyes were wide. “What about her?”

Callan shoved out the door, through the deserted dining room.

He was running across the foyer when something outside the glass doors caught his eye.

He skidded, angled that way, and spoke to a uniformed cop standing guard there. “Where’s my car?” He pointed to the empty space in the circle drive. “What happened to the red Mustang?”

“Ms. Wright took it,” the cop said. “She said you wanted her to…” His faded, clearly reading Callan’s expression.

Callan spun to Gavin, who’d followed.

The man's face had paled to paste.

“He called her. He…he must’ve…” Callan didn’t want to face what he already knew.

Ghazi had called Alyssa and demanded she come.

And Alyssa had gone. To save Peri, she’d gone to meet the terrorist.