[BAD 07] - Silent Truth

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Gotthard stopped typing. “The meeting during the fund-raiser had to do with Gwen’s baby and some other babies being bred.”

  “What do you mean by ‘bred’?” Hunter pulled a writing pad and pen from the corner of his desk to jot notes.

  “Remember the genetic markers you and I located on the students from France last fall?”

  “Yes.” Hunter had tapped genealogy specialists he knew in the UK who traced the heritage of royalty and world leaders. Those particular specialists spent their days inputting and analyzing ancient DNA taken from clothing, personal items, anything that might carry a specimen. Their computers weren’t capable of processing that much information in a timely manner, so Hunter arranged for Gotthard to offer secure computer services as a contractor. BAD possessed a supercomputer called the Monster that Gotthard had been running the information through for the genealogy specialists… and BAD.

  Gotthard explained, “Our informant says there’s a power struggle going on within the Fratelli that has to do with these bred children. We’re hoping the information you picked up will explain more. I’ve got the Monster cross-referencing some of the world’s most influential families, like the Wentworths’ group, but some have no readily available medical records.”

  “I have a thought on that to do with the Kore center I’ll share in a minute. You think if we find the people connected by genetics that will lead us to the Fratelli?”

  “That’s where we hit a wall.” Gotthard’s attention moved to something offscreen and tapping sounds came through the speakers. “Got the download.” His eyes moved back and forth, reading. “There’s our start point.”

  “What?” Hunter had scanned Linette’s information, including photos of the three Fras who met at the Wentworth home, but he hadn’t put together anything linked to genetic markers.

  Gotthard continued typing and reading something, then his eyes stared forward again. “The genetic markers I’ve found started disappearing around thirty years ago. I just entered seventeen dates of birth listed by our contact in a file on the memory stick for people Vestavia calls genetic assets for North America. The contact says there are more, but this is what was accessible. The computer is matching them to… yes. The birth dates our contact supplied match seventeen of the UK genealogy specialists’ records and all seventeen have similar but rare blood types. And I don’t mean AB blood but some form of HH. All seventeen are listed as being born at Kore during the past thirty-five years.”

  “I’m not following you. It’s not like all the people with that rare blood type and similar DNA markers just decided to go to Kore.” Hunter scribbled notes on the pad about the Kore Women’s Center, Gwen and Abbie plus her mother’s H-1 blood, connecting them with a line, then drew a question mark in the center. “Maybe they didn’t go willingly. With this being a premier center for rare blood are any men admitted?”

  “No men. We’re dealing with women only. And I’ve been keeping a list of women with similar rare blood types popping up in our database search who did not enter the Kore Women’s Center. Every one I’ve found ended up terminated.”

  Hunter stopped drawing. “What? Explain.”

  “We have more data to process, but we have enough to show a pattern of women dying by accident—drowning, traffic accidents, muggings, a bad fall hiking, anything but a natural cause.”

  “So none of the women had a disease or cancer or something? Hard to believe in this day and age.”

  “Some did, but we haven’t found a female with this genetic profile from outside the center who died of a natural medical issue. And the ones who did go into the Kore center who died later committed suicide or succumbed to a fast-paced illness.”

  Hunter crunched on that. He was first to argue that anything coincidental in this business deserved a closer look. Few could surpass him when it came to electronics and processing intel, but he’d defer to Gotthard’s electronic capabilities any day and frankly preferred action over studying intelligence reports. “About the Kore center. Before Gwen was shot, I overheard her tell Abigail she couldn’t share something about the center or the Fras would kill both her and Abigail. I did find out Abigail’s mother has rare H-1 blood and she visited the Kore center recently. Abigail was trying to press Gwen for information, because her mother was healthy when she went in ten days ago and came out sick. The Kore center claims they only took a blood donation to bank for her mother and performed routine tests.”

  “When’d you find all that out?” Gotthard asked with a tiny lift of his eyebrows.

  Hunter understood Gotthard’s sign that he was asking the question for Joe’s benefit. His teammate was trying to help him. “Heard it while they were talking right before Gwen was shot.”

  Gotthard grunted, then continued. “Our informant inside Fratelli believes the JC killer is linked to the prime minister’s death two months ago, was behind Gwen’s shooting—which we’ve confirmed as true—and will be playing a role in the upcoming attack. The informant says Vestavia believes Bardaric’s directing the killer. Based on a series of kill photos Vestavia received with the JC killer’s signature stamp, Vestavia believes Bardaric is going to hit a political leader. He speculates that our president may be in danger when he meets with the new UK prime minister in DC next week over a United Nations issue coming up.”

  “UN issue my ass.” Hunter scoffed. “Everyone knows the president is trying to smooth over tension between him and the prime minister. Hell, half the world suspects this prime minister of having a hand in assassinating the last one.” A plan started forming in Hunter’s mind. “Did the informant have any idea what type of attack the Fratelli were planning?”

  “Possibly an explosive. Something new, not on the market.”

  “Time frame?”

  “Nothing definitive. The prime minister is meeting with the president on Tuesday in DC, but he’s arriving in Colorado Saturday to visit a friend and speak at a college on Monday. We can’t dismiss someone killing the prime minister as an unwilling martyr. We’re using Saturday as an early time frame.”

  Hunter’s next move would determine if Joe suspected his actions. “That means we have anywhere from three to five days. And the informant warned us to be prepared for quick changes in the schedule. Vestavia has switched plans and escalated time frames in the past to keep anyone from outmaneuvering him. He trusts no one. Until the informant can supply a time frame, locations, and what the explosive is, our best bet is to get inside the Kore center. We locate records on those ten male babies and we’ll have a shot at finding the JC killer before he strikes. He might be the loose thread to unravel this whole scheme.”

  Hunter forced his fingers to unfold from gripping the pen he held in view of the monitor. Opening the jaws of an alligator in the middle of a kill would have been easier.

  Gotthard’s eyes shifted left. He nodded, then faced the monitor again. The big guy showed wear around the edges, his eyes more tired looking than usual. Could be the job or his rocky marriage taking a toll, or both. “Joe plans to have teams stationed in different parts of the country ready to go at a minute’s notice. He can’t send an alert through channels to other government security branches of the possible strike with nothing to hand them as hard intelligence. If someone shows our hand too soon, we risk alerting the Fratelli. Then they’d just find the leak, reset their plans, and strike at a later date.”

  Gotthard’s point was clear. The Fratelli would find their informant, kill her, and move forward.

  Hunter had observed the long hours Gotthard spent trying to connect with this informant online last year and his friend’s excitement when she responded. Gotthard didn’t hide the fact that he was protective of Linette’s safety. What the others probably hadn’t noticed, since few had spent the intensive time Hunter had working with Gotthard in intelligence research in the past year, was that Gotthard also seemed possessive when dealing with her.

  He began mentally listing what this B&E would require. “It’ll be tight, but I can
insert into Kore in forty-eight hours.”

  “A female agent has to insert,” Gotthard said. “Only men in the facility are Wentworth doctors everyone knows.”

  Hunter sat up. “The staff is all women?” Of course, that would make sense for a women’s center.

  “Pretty much. Joe has a team searching for those three Fras. Carlos and his team are hunting the sniper and Korbin’s tracking the Blanton woman.”

  Carlos could search all he wanted for the sniper, but so would Hunter. Korbin wouldn’t pose a problem as long as Hunter kept Abbie out of sight.

  That would mean locking her up here or she’d try to leave. He glanced at the orange security light still shining to let him know the front door had not been opened. How could he tell her she couldn’t be with her mother any time soon and might have to stop making phone calls? He’d figure out something, some way to help her mother, too.

  And if her mother died while he held Abbie hostage?

  Fuck. Moving back to his plan, Hunter said, “I can figure out a cover to access the Kore Women’s Center.”

  “I hear ze female vaxing is vorst form of torture. Only for real men,” Gotthard deadpanned, eyes creasing with mirth. He allowed his German accent to surface when he relaxed.

  “You need a humor makeover. Tell Joe to give me some time to come up with a plan. If he doesn’t like my plan then send a female, but if the Kore security is as tight as I think, it’s going to take more than inserting as staff.”

  Eliot could bypass anything. Could have.

  Gotthard’s eyes thinned, sending Hunter a visual message to heed him. “This may not be something one agent can do alone.” When Hunter didn’t reply, Gotthard turned to his right, clearly listening to Joe, who would have heard everything, then Gotthard faced the screen. “You have two hours to hand Joe a plan.”

  Hunter signed off and shut down the computer. Time for Abbie to tell him everything she knew. He strode over to his office door, opening it to shout into the foyer. “Borys?”

  Boot heels clicked across the buffed cherrywood floors. Borys appeared at the door that led to the kitchen. “I’m busy.”

  “Tell Abbie I want to talk to her.”

  “She’s not with you?”

  Hunter walked over to the stairs and shouted up, “Abbie!”

  “I coulda done that.” Borys crossed his arms. “I just looked everywhere for her. She’s not in the house.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Where the hell is she?” Hunter yelled at Borys, who stomped to the front door of the cabin.

  Like Abbie would be sitting on the cabin’s front steps?

  “Front door alarm is still active,” Hunter told him, and swung around to the coat closet.

  “Door’s still locked, too, but if she ain’t in here, she has to be outside.” Borys punched the wall monitor, clearing the alarm system, then ran up the stairs. “I only stuck my head in her bedroom earlier. I’ll search it, but she ain’t here.”

  “Goddammit!” Hunter slammed his fist inside the closet and hit a panel in the only spot that would make the hidden shelf drop down to reveal a Kahr K9 9mm. He shoved the stainless steel weapon inside his waistband at the small of his back.

  “Climbed out the window with sheets,” Borys yelled, pounding back down the stairs.

  “Who turned off the upstairs security?” Hunter roared, snatching a down jacket from the closet.

  “Me! I like to crack the damn windows sometimes.” Veins stuck out on the sides of Borys’s neck, pulsing. “We never set the upstairs goddamn security! She couldn’t’ve gone far.”

  “I activated the traps on the way in last night.”

  “Ah, shit. What the hell were you thinking? You never do that when you have a guest. She could be laying out there with a broke neck.”

  “She’s not a guest!” Hunter snapped. Borys was lucky he didn’t have time to strangle him. He wanted to kill something right now. “Stay here in case she comes back and don’t fucking let her out if she does.”

  “How about fucking telling me what the deal is next time you bring a woman home so I can keep her hemmed up? You must’ve really pissed her off—”

  Hunter slammed the door and stared at the frozen landscape. Miles of treacherous terrain so chewed-up a bear would be tough to track. He narrowed his choices down to the least-steep direction leaving the cabin. She couldn’t have hiking boots… unless she stole some from Borys that fit. Would she take the sharp downhill incline ahead?

  No. She was going for the Jeep.

  He rounded the cabin to where the land sloped away less aggressively with breaks that might look like paths squiggling between swatches of pines that stair-stepped down the mountain.

  An innocent-looking route.

  Except for several narrow chasms where loose rocks and land would break away unexpectedly.

  A fall out here could be fatal.

  If she didn’t fall on her own she wouldn’t know to sidestep traps he’d set to stop anyone who made it past his outer security perimeter undetected.

  If that didn’t worry him enough, the trails down this side led to where he’d found a mule deer killed by mountain lions.

  Joe waited on Gotthard to finish at the computer terminal, wishing this private room, which connected to the electronic surveillance and research division for BAD, had more than fifteen feet square of open area so he could pace. But the room had been constructed specifically for small groups and private meetings within their mission headquarters beneath downtown Nashville, Tennessee. The building affectionately known as the Bat Tower housed an insurance company front for Bureau of American Defense, connected to the underground operations center by a warren of tunnels.

  Gotthard finished closing a file he’d opened while videoconferencing with Hunter and swung around. He propped his meaty elbow on the edge of his desk and rested his chin on his thumb. “Opinions?”

  Joe had several but preferred to hear his men out first. He turned to Retter, his most dangerous agent and the only other person Joe had allowed to listen in on the videoconference.

  Retter’s chest barely moved with a breath. Black hair hung to his shoulders, still damp from showering. He scratched his freshly shaven chin, his guarded gaze studying the floor. The decision weighed on all of them, but Retter had taken the lead on watching Hunter. He leaned his butt against the edge of a stainless steel table adjacent to the one Gotthard sat at where monitors and electronic equipment lined one wall. Retter finally shook his head. “I never saw any change in his normal demeanor all the time I’ve shadowed him on ops for the past four years. Same hard-ass attitude, proficient as he is lethal. He had me convinced he’d moved past Eliot’s death… until now.”

  “Me too,” Gotthard agreed. Disappointment slumping his shoulders said even more.

  Joe rubbed his temple, willing the headache not to turn into a migraine. “Shit, I believed he was over Eliot’s death, too. But I can’t be sure. Hunter didn’t exactly take the bait about the connection between the JC killer and the attack in Kauai. Hard to say for sure what he’s up to right now.”

  “If you could have read him that easily over a video monitor, he wouldn’t be working for BAD,” Retter pointed out.

  “I know.” Joe gave up on his aching temple and pushed his hand into his front jeans pocket. “We need him if he comes up with a viable plan to get inside the Kore Women’s Center.”

  “I’ll second that,” Gotthard interjected. “We don’t have the time to build a profile to get someone in the front door and any agent we sent in wouldn’t have backup.”

  Joe asked Retter, “Korbin’s sure he saw Hunter leave with Blanton from her apartment? He’s not letting his dick talk after Hunter punked out Rae in the mission room, right?”

  “No.” Retter gave a quick shake of his head. “I questioned Korbin myself. He’s solid. Besides, no one on this team would put a target on an agent who didn’t deserve it.”

  “Didn’t say they would.” Joe didn’t pull punches and
wouldn’t now, but there was no reason to take the head off one of the men helping him sort through this mess. “We still have to confirm Hunter’s tracking the killer on his own. In the meantime, we’ll give him two hours.” He took in the grim faces of both men. Not a thing any of them could do yet. Not until Hunter made a clear move across the line Joe drew for every agent the day they entered BAD. Elite operatives couldn’t use their skills and intelligence access to fulfill vows of vengeance. “If Hunter has a viable plan, we let him go through with it.”

  “If not?” Gotthard asked.

  Joe never minced his words. “Then I’ll give him one chance to bring in the girl and turn himself in before I send a team after him.” He never wanted to take down one of his own, but he would give the order to drop a rogue and every agent knew it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Abbie picked her way carefully between snow-crusted evergreen bushes and scattered boulders blocking the easiest route off this frozen mountain. She’d traded in her oversized flight suit from last night for a less oversized pair of worn-but-clean jeans, two long-sleeved T-shirts, a dark green cotton sweater, thick socks, and boots a size too large she’d found in a bedroom down the hall from the one she’d slept in.

  The bedroom Hunter had shown her to early this morning when they arrived and ordered her to stay put until he came to get her.

  Yeah, that always worked well with her.

  Did he really think she’d just sit there for a week or more? He might have all kinds of time, but she didn’t.

  First, her mother was dying, dammit.

  Second, what about her job? Stuart would be foaming at the mouth by now, fielding questions from other media outlets, and the board and slow-but-not-stupid Brittany wouldn’t be far behind wondering why he’d given Abbie an invitation to the Wentworth event.