Oh, Lord. How could I have left her unprotected?
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I yank electronics out of my bag, plug in my phone, tablet, laptop. I get into the records from Director Scape’s phone and from Agent Tentrite’s and scan through them. There are calls from Scape to Tentrite. That’s to be expected. I’m looking for anything from Flack. When did Annabel first call him?
I don’t have Annabel’s call records because she used a destroyed burner phone. I do have Scape’s cell phone. And I have a good memory. I pinpoint the time Annabel would’ve called Flack, then check Scape’s incoming calls.
There’s one. Only a few seconds long. I download the recording and play it.
It’s short and sweet. Simply the Senator’s deep voice saying, “Call me on a secure line.”
I grab Scape’s cell phone and scroll through. Bingo, Director Scape made a call from his cell phone to that same number thirty seconds later.
Too bad I didn’t have a bug on that phone.
But it’s enough. Flack’s involved. I have to get a message to Annabel before she goes there tonight.
I memorized the numbers on the burner phones Annabel and I bought, and I dial them all, one by one now. She doesn’t pick up.
Dammit.
I leave a message on the server. Do not go in to see F. Repeat, do NOT go in. Wait for further contact. I leave a string of numbers in which my phone number is hidden in code. It could be broken by the CIA, but it might take them a little time.
Shoving my things back into a bag, I jump on the motorcycle and gun it for the airport. Flying East in the afternoon from Tucson is going to be a challenge, but hopefully, there’s something going out. Why in the hell did I come all the way to Tucson instead of picking up the damn phone to call Jared, instead?
I’m an idiot.
Annabel
IT’S EIGHT P. M. when I get dropped off by my Lyft driver in front of the Senator’s house. It’s a showy, manicured estate in Georgetown. Much nicer than a former CIA director turned senator should be able to afford. He must come from money.
I clutch my attaché case and walk up the sidewalk. The door swings wide and the senator steps out with a warm smile.
“Annabel Gray. Come in, come in. You have your father’s eyes.”
“Do I?”
“Come in, have a seat.” He gestures to an overstuffed sofa. “My wife is out tonight, but I can play host. Would you like something to drink?”
“No, nothing.”
He sits down in the chair beside me and balances one ankle on his knee. “I’m glad we finally get to meet. Are you feeling better?”
“Yes. Actually, I lied when I said I had the stomach flu. Someone tried to stop me from seeing you.”
His bushy white eyebrows raise above penetrating brown eyes. He leans forward.
“What happened?”
“Two guys pulled me into a stairwell. I got away but decided I’d better lie low until I put the pieces of this together.”
“All right. Start from the beginning. Pieces of what? You mentioned your dad’s death?”
“Yes. Senator Flack, you were director of the CIA when he died, right?”
“That’s right.”
“And do you know what his mission in El Salvador was?”
“He was quelling unrest, so the peace accord would go through.”
“Actually, he was given orders to stir things up and prevent peace. And when he refused, his superior, Director Scape had him killed.”
Flack sits back, a look of disbelief on his face. “That’s quite an allegation.”
“I have his recorded confession.” I hold up my cell phone and hit play.
Flack’s expression remains blank as he listens. Then he leans forward.
“Who have you told about this?”
It’s an odd question. The wrong question. Isn’t it? I’m suddenly ready to jump out of my skin with nerves. I lie to test him. “No one. I don’t know who I can trust in the CIA. I came straight to you.”
He clasps his hands. “That’s good. And what about your partner? Where is he?”
My chest seizes. I can hardly breathe. He definitely shouldn’t know anything about Charlie.
“What partner?”
“Oh, I assumed you had one of your field agents on this with you,” he says smoothly. It’s so smooth, I can’t quite decide if I’m being paranoid or not.
“Nope. Totally alone.” I clutch the edges of the attaché case in my lap. “I wouldn’t involve agents on a personal matter. That would be unethical. Um, may I use your restroom?”
Senator Flack stands up. “Of course, right this way.”
I follow his directions and shut myself in the bathroom. I just need a minute to think. To get my heart rate down, figure out what to do next. I stare at myself in the mirror, still surprised to see myself blonde.
Okay, I just need to leave. If there was a bathroom window, I’d already be out it. I wish I had a phone number for Charlie. But he’s already out of town. I have to figure this one out on my own.
And I can. All it takes is staying calm. If I keep my wits about me, I can figure out for sure if the Senator is a part of things. I take a page out of Charlie’s book and turn the recorder on my phone.
Here goes nothing.
I step out of the bathroom and pain explodes at the back of my head.
The last thing I remember is the floor rushing up to meet my face, then I’m out.
CHARLIE
I SEE the four meatheads hustling out of the Grand Cherokee parked in front of Senator Flack’s house, weapons in clear view. They’re private mercenaries by the look. Military trained. Probably from a high-profile, top-secret security company.
Hopefully, their presence means Annabel’s still alive. I race around the side of the manor, climbing up to look in each window.
Oh God.
Annabel’s on the living room floor, her wrists, ankles, and mouth taped with duct tape. The four goons stand around her, jawing with Senator Flack. I’m going to kill them all.