Page 32 of Steinbeck (The Minnesota Kingstons #5)

He sighed, shut the laptop on his desk, and walked over to her. “You did really well tonight. Thank you.”

“I nearly didn’t.” She made a wry face.

He gave her a grim nod.

“So, you got something off that phone.”

“Yes. We got... a big something.” He folded his arms. “For the past few years, we’ve been chasing down a rogue faction of the CIA. They were in league with Reba Jackson?—”

“The VP-elect who was involved in an assassination plot.”

“That was just the beginning.” He offered her a seat on one of the plush, blue velvet chairs.

She sat on the edge, her silk dress puddling around her bare feet.

“We thought—and still believe—that a faction of the Russian troika, the government leadership, wanted to pull us into a war. And they were using a branch of the Bratva to do this.”

“The Petrov Bratva.”

“Indeed. Two years ago, they created a bioweapon and tried to deploy it at an aero event in Florida.”

She sat back.

“About the same time, they attempted another assassination on Air Force One, with the president aboard. This time with an EMP bomb.”

“Creative.”

“It gets worse. You heard about the near bombing in Lauchtenland last year?”

“No.”

“Because we stopped it.” He leaned against the front of the sturdy mahogany desk. “They had another bioweapon, this time one that would have spread radioactive waste across the country. They were going to deploy it during an American–European football game.”

She realized her mouth had opened.

“And last year, the Petrovs broke into the crypobank in Montelena and stole two hundred million dollars. At first we weren’t sure what it was for, but we realized... it was to buy an island.”

“Mariposa.”

“Yes. The world’s largest stockpile of obsidian. Thankfully we were able to divert their shipment?—”

“The operation Declan was on.”

“Yes. He’s been working with our organization for a while. Axiom wasn’t exactly bait, but it became clear that’s what they wanted.” He drew in a breath. “And we’re starting to wonder if you might have been part of their game plan.”

She frowned. “I... what?”

“You were right. Luis is missing. And so are Mystique and Shep. And we dug into the connection between your Captain Teresa and Luis. They were together before you extracted him out of Krakow. And... we think Teresa worked for the KGB.”

“So, the entire mission was... what? A fake?”

“He did give away troop movements, but perhaps that crime served as his cover.”

“And all this time...”

“He’s been playing the Swans.”

She looked away, shook her head.

“The man at the center of all this, however, is not Tomas, or Luis. . . It’s a man named Alan Martin. He’s ex-CIA, and he masterminded, well, everything, we believe.”

He picked up the cell phone. “And today this phone proved it. We found calls from Tomas to a cell here in the city, and Coco was able to ping it to a specific location. She ran facial recognition from the cameras in the area against any known Bratva contacts and... there he was. Talking to Tomas on a bench in the middle of Hudson Yards. Eating ice cream.”

She stared at Logan. “So, this Alan Martin is behind... what, exactly? I talked with Nim. She said the program is intact.”

“I know. Declan called me. But Nim thinks there might be a back door, which means somehow it can still be hacked.”

“And Declan is still worried.”

“He’s going to ask the convention center to go offline during his demonstration.”

“Right. No Internet, no hacking.” She sighed. “Okay then, how can I help?”

He frowned, shook his head. “You’re done, Phoenix. We’ll take it from here.”

She blinked at him. “What? No, this is a Swan operation.”

“And you did your job. You secured Axiom. We got the virus?—”

“Are you even sure it works?”

“Declan was there the entire time. He has the virus parked in his cloud server, even if Luis tainted the other one. We have Alan’s phone and are tracking his GPS.”

Are tracking ... “Wait. Is Stein still here?”

“No. He and Colt and Tate left about a half hour ago.” He got up. “Thanks again, Phoenix. You’ve been a big help. I guess you’ll be needing a flight somewhere?”

Oh. “Um.”

“You live in Lisbon?”

She nodded. So... dismissed, then.

She walked out into the kitchen, stood in the quiet.

Stein had left.

On his own mission.

Without her.

She walked down the hallway, pushed open the door, and for a second, thought maybe...

Maybe he’d be waiting, with a Snickers bar and that lazy smile.

But her room was empty.

“Come with me if you want to live.”

She sank into the bed, curled her knees to her chest, and watched the moon, a shimmering ball in a black sky. And tried to tell herself that she wasn’t alone.

* * *

His eyes had turned to sandpaper.

That had nothing on his mood, however. Steinbeck sipped black coffee, standing at the edge of the SAR exhibit, watching as the crowd gathered.

He now understood why Declan needed such a large exhibit space.

He’d packed an entire make-believe village into the ninety-thousand-square-foot hall with the thirty-eight-feet-high ceiling.

A village that very much resembled the destroyed island of Mariposa after a landslide took out a terrible swath of the small community.

Lumber, cement, rebar, steel girders, mud, and dirt, all constructed out of plaster.

The exhibit felt just a little too real.

No wonder Declan had developed the SAR dogs.

Made to mimic German shepherds, they stood in a row, quiet and intimidating under gleaming lights.

Behind them hung an expansive wall banner with an actual photo of the rubble in Mariposa, the words “Transforming EMS Response with SAR AI Dogs” emblazoned in white against the chaos.

Smaller droids that looked a lot like the automatic lawn mower Jack wanted to buy sat in front of a banner with a background of burnt forest. This one advertised AI bomb-detection sweepers.

“Those were developed with help from our EOD expert, Sibba. She’s from Slovenia—they still have unexploded ordnance from World War Two,” Colt had said as they’d watched the rehearsal for the event that morning.

A red rope hanging between stanchions stretched in front of the dogs and the rubble, another in front of the bomb sweepers. Declan would take the podium in the middle, elevated on a short dais, his company’s logo on the front: Spectra Cybernetics: Empowering AI Innovation.

A massive screen hung over the entire exhibit, where Declan would show his video before showcasing the dogs hunting for lost “people.”

They’d run through the video this morning, and the rehearsal went off without a glitch. Stein and crew had spent last night with eyes glued to the strategically placed cameras from their station in Declan’s rented greenroom. He’d even caught a few winks on the sofa between shifts.

So really, he had no reason for the buzz under his skin.

It didn’t help that between the winks, Emberly had roamed his brain, and he couldn’t purge the look on her face after she’d returned to the gala.

He’d hurt her. He knew it. And the longer it sat inside him, the more his chest ached, poison swilling his veins.

“This reminds me of when I attended my mother-in-law’s presidential campaign event in San Diego,” Tate said next to him. “I knew something was going to go down—I just couldn’t untangle it. Turned out the sound guy had sabotaged the mics.”

Steinbeck looked at him. “You checked the sound system?”

“Twice.” Tate lifted a shoulder. “I’m glad Glo isn’t here. I was always a little distracted with her in the audience.” He glanced at Steinbeck. “But my girl wasn’t some sort of super spy, so...”

Steinbeck’s mouth tightened. “She’s not my girl .”

“Sure looked like your girl at the gala. And the way you pulled her off that rig?—”

“She rescued herself, thank you, and I was just...” He swallowed, shook his head. “She can take care of herself.”

“Black Swans work alone.”

Tate nodded, took another sip of coffee.

“Tae said she enjoyed shopping with her.” Colt threw his cup into a nearby trash can.

“I probably shouldn’t have brought Tae on this trip, but”—he folded his arms—“she’s good for me.

” He offered a slight smile. “I can get a little unhinged. She’s smart and calm and patient and.

..” He sighed. “But yeah, I’ll never forget when she was held hostage by those jerks in Florida. ”

“Hostage?” Stein said. He’d been watching a delegation of Chinese scientists as they read a brochure and talked with one of Declan’s sales reps.

“At an air show in Florida. The Petrovs were going to deploy a smallpox toxin. That’s where I met Fraser Marshall.”

“On the princess’s detail?”

“Yeah. He worked for Ham Jones’s outfit before he was injured in a security op gone south in Nigeria. He leveled up with his new gig. Then again, it’s his brother Creed who really got the long stick. Although I’d guess that God has a good plan for everyone. Oh, it looks like it’s showtime.”

Stein nearly didn’t hear his last words, stuck on “God has a good plan for everyone.”

Maybe that was the struggle. Stein had thought he’d landed on a plan. And Emberly had blown that up. “This is what I do, Stein.”

He should have paid attention instead of dreaming up some happily ever after for them, walking away into the sunshine.

“Come with me if you want to live.” Yeah, right. His gut tightened. He threw away his cup as Colt left him to take a position opposite the room. Tate had moved away also, watching the back of the growing crowd.

Spectators had come from around the globe—Russia, Nepal, Thailand, Indonesia, Brazil, Turkey. Stein’s gaze ran over all of them, searching for trouble.

Declan walked out from behind the exhibit, followed by a handful of staffers.

“You guys in position?” Logan’s voice thrummed in Steinbeck’s earpiece.

“Aye,” said Steinbeck quietly.

“Roger,” added Tate and Colt.