by Misty Evans
Cal started to help her onto the bar stool, but she shook her head. “Chair. I need a chair.”
With his help, she staggered over to a table and plopped down. Maggie followed, wagging and head-butting Bianca’s hand for attention. Bianca’s fingers delved into the Lab’s soft fur and held on. She needed something to ground her.
Not only had Halston been poisoned, he was the key to resolving the issues surrounding Cal’s mission and the bounty on her head.
Not the only target on this mission…
Bile rose in her throat. She’d thought Tephra was insinuating Linc Norman was on someone’s kill list. Instead, whoever it was had gone after Senator Halston.
Why? Because he’d leaked information? Or because he was her only hope of clearing up this mess?
Only Cal and Emit knew her plan to talk to him. No one else did, so whoever poisoned Halston hadn’t done it because she’d been waiting to talk to him. At least she could take comfort in that.
Emit set a glass of water in front of her and pulled out a chair. He brought out a computer tablet and laid it on the table. “There’s more.”
More? She set her teeth, forcing herself to swallow the lump in her throat.
Under the table, Cal took her hand—the one not embedded in Maggie’s fur—and squeezed. Team. They were a team. Bianca exchanged a look with him and nodded. He said to Emit, “Give it to us.”
Emit touched the screen, bringing it to life. “I ran TrackMap, my people-mapping program that shows relationships between people and groups they belong to. Bianca would recognize it as a version of Net Map, used by her coworkers to track everything from human trafficking networks to targeted digital attacks on government and financial websites. Anyway, I put in all the variables I had. You two, Tephra, Halston, Linc Norman. An interesting correlation popped up.”
On the screen were clusters of dots, some gray, some white, and some red. The clusters were labeled “Family,” “SEAL Teams,” “Congress,” “White House.” Emit pointed at a large gray dot on its own. The dot was labeled Rory Tephra.
From Rory’s gray dot extended several lines. Emit traced one that led to the SEAL Team cluster. Inside that cluster were dots labeled with Patrick Halston’s name and Cal’s. “The three of you were all SEALs.”
Cal shrugged. “We knew that.”
Emit traced the finger back to Rory. “Rory Tephra entered the training program in 1996. Do you know who his BUDs trainer was?”
Cal shook his head. “Before my time.”
Emit tapped the dot with Senator Halston’s name. “Patrick. He left the Navy and became a senator in 1998. Two months after 9/11, he was appointed to the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, and within ten days, Tephra was declared MIA.”
Emit was looking at them as if he’d given them the answer to all their questions. Bianca’s brain cells felt as frayed as her nerves. She blinked, hoping that clearing her vision would unscramble the message Emit was giving her. It didn’t work. “I’m sorry, I don’t see it. What’s the connection?”
Cal released her hand and set his elbows on the table, staring at the tablet. “Tephra was commissioned by Halston to go MIA so he could do ghost work.”
“Exactly.” Emit sat back, seemingly proud that Cal had gotten it.
Bianca was still lost. “Ghost work for Halston?”
Cal nodded. “You said he was doing wet work for the CIA? Same thing, except in the Spec Ops world, we call it ghost work. Black operations in foreign countries that only a few top ranking officials ever know about. They perform missions similar to what you were telling me about at the cabin. Things the government doesn’t want made public. The men and everything about the mission, right down to the budget is kept off-record.”
“Lots of ops are run that way. Every division has a black budget and a specific team of experts to deal with sensitive targets.”
Emit shook his head. “We’re talking completely unofficial here. There’s a specialized group called Command and Control. It’s run by a ruthless SOB who has dirt on every politician and financial mogul in America. Thing is, he doesn’t bother with blackmail. You cross him or whoever he’s backing at the moment, and he simply wipes you off the face of the earth. His group does things that would make your hair stand on end.”
Bianca’s hair was already standing on end. A low tingling had started at the base of her neck the moment Emit had said Command and Control, and now a buzzing filled her ears. How did he know about C&C? About Jonathan?
Jonathan was made of steel, sure, and had one heck of a short list of enemies, but he did what he did to protect America and support the men and women of the military on the ground defending her. Jonathan looked at the big picture twenty-four-seven, and he wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger to defend his country.
She kept her face neutral even though Cal was staring at her so hard, she felt the heat of his gaze down to her toes. “How do know about this group? This Command and Control?”
Emit met her eyes. “I know someone who works in it.”
Did he mean her? “You have spies everywhere.”
“You should see your face right now.” The signature Emit-grin spread across his face. “You’re shitting bricks, aren’t you? It’s okay, B. I know what you do when you go to work at the NSA, but you might want to fill Cal in on the details.”
Cal ran a hand over the scruff on his face and chuckled without humor. “I already know, but it was like pulling teeth to get it out of her.”
“I’m not your spy,” Bianca said to Emit, “so how do you know about C&C? About Jonathan?”
“The other blue elephant was a friend of mine. Before she died, she was a client too.”
“You knew Alisha?”
“She suspected someone was following her, bugging her phone, the usual. Of course Jonathan was keeping an eye on her. He kept a close eye on both of you. With Alisha, though, it was something different. She was worried. Unfortunately, she was on her way home from meeting with me about her suspicions when she had her accident. I never had a chance to set up security for her.”
“Did you look into it? The accident?”
“I did, but everything was sealed. Jonathan didn’t want anyone sniffing around her or what happened.”
“Maybe I need to talk to Jonathan rather than Senator Halston.”
“No,” both men said at the same time.
“What we need to do is focus on the links we have in front of us,” Cal said. He pointed at the tablet. “If Tephra was tasked by Halston to do ghost work, he either had to be killed”—he made air quotes—“or he had to go MIA.”
“Exactly,” Emit said. “He had no family and his only friends were fellow SEAL team members, but…”
Sitting forward again, he tapped the tablet screen and brought up a news release. “According to an official statement released by the Washington Post in an article buried in the back on the day Tephra was officially declared MIA by the federal government, Senator Halston is quoted as saying, ‘Rory Tephra was more than a hero, more than a SEAL. He was like a son to me. The United States owes him a great debt and we will not stop searching for him. We will find him and bring him home. And when he does return, you can bet a hero’s welcome will be waiting for him.’”
Bianca tapped her foot under the table. “So Halston unofficially hired Tephra to perform ghost work after 9/11 to take out terrorists.”
Emit nodded. “Those not in the spotlight like Bin Laden but still as dangerous. The war on al Qaeda shattered the Taliban and similar jihadists into a thousand tiny offshoots. It caused other anti-Western groups to rise up, many of which the smaller al Qaeda cells reached out to, in this country as well as others. A new decentralized network was spawned, and with it, more effective enemies.”
“Like Otto Grimes,” Bianca said.
Emit pointed at the blob of dots labeled Terrorists. “See this link?”
Bianca watched his finger trace a line from Otto Grimes’ name to Senator Halston’s.
It made sense since the committee Halston headed went after terrorists.
“The last field mission Patrick Halston participated in before becoming a SEAL trainer involved Otto Grimes’ father, Dago. Do you know who else was on that mission?”
Bianca and Cal shook their heads.
“Linc Norman’s father. He was a field agent for the CIA under deep cover in Grimes’ network. Led Halston’s team right to Dago. Dago and six of his men were killed.”
“Setting up Otto’s hate of Linc Norman,” Cal said.
Bianca shook her head. “That’s not right. I know everything about Otto Grimes. His dad died from cancer when he was a kid.”
Emit and Cal both looked at her as if she were mentally challenged.
She of all people knew how much the government covered up. How many missions were kept secret. Taking a deep breath, she decided to let them run with their theories. “So you’re saying the ‘official’ version of Dago’s death was a lie, and that Otto Grimes has a vendetta against Norman and Halston. I see the connection, but I still don’t understand why President Norman keeps challenging Grimes to a showdown—wouldn’t it be the other way around? Grimes is the one with the vendetta, he’s the one who should be going after Norman.”
“He’s been pretty aggressive with his responses to Norman’s challenges. And for all we know, he did make the first move, only it wasn’t a public threat made on YouTube. It may have been a private one made long before Linc became president.”
“Do you think Halston sent Tephra after me?” She had to swallow before she could say the next words. “Or Jonathan? Neither of them know I overhead their conversation.”
Cal’s gaze was pinned on the table. He lifted his eyes and looked at her from underneath his brows. “Maybe it’s not about that conversation at all. Maybe it’s because you’re married to me.”
Emit tapped the edge of the table and nodded. “Someone wanted your mission to fail and leaked the information to Grimes. Cal, you weren’t supposed to make it out alive, but you did. Whoever is behind this”—he motioned to both of them—“knows that between the two of you, you’ll figure it out and blow the lid off their cover-up. That’s why they sent assassins after you.”
Theories weren’t getting them anywhere. Bianca needed more. “But then, who tried to kill Halston and why?”
“It all comes back to this.” Emit touched a small mass of red dots on the screen, enlarging them. “Everyone associated with Cal’s mission is either dead or has a target on their back.”
Bianca stood, her resolve returning at lightning speed. “We have to talk to Senator Halston.”
“Security at the hospital is tight, and if I get you into his room—which is highly unlikely—he may not be able to talk.”
She’d take the chance. “As I recall, you’re much like Cal, Emit. You love a challenge.”
He and Cal exchanged that look they’d always given each other when she irritated either of them. Emit shut down the tablet and stood. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you.”
Soundgarden, the bodyguard from earlier, appeared in the doorway. “Sir? We have a problem.”
Cal rose, his body seeming to go into fight mode instantly. Bianca moved closer to him.
“What is it?” Emit said.
“Feds.” Soundgarden tapped the earbud in his ear as if listening to someone speak. “Roger that,” he said, and then to Emit, “They’re upstairs looking for Agent Marx.”
Her stomach fell. “As in FBI?”
The bodyguard nodded.
“Is it Harris?” Cal asked. “The taskforce?”
Cooper was DEA. So was Thomas. Ronni was the only field agent who was FBI. Semantics, Bianca reminded herself. The real question was, how had they found her?
No time to worry about that now. “Cal and I have to get to the hospital and talk to Halston,” she said to Emit. “Can you get rid of them?”
Emit started walking, pointing toward a back shelving unit of wine bottles. He motioned at Cal and the two of them pushed the heavy shelving aside. Behind it, Emit opened a hidden door. “I’ll do my best. You two head to the south end of the property. There are a couple of old trucks the monks use for harvest down there. Take one of them and get out of here. I’ll catch up with you if I can at UC South.”
Bianca couldn’t help it. Against her natural instincts, she gave him a quick hug. “Thank you.”
It wasn’t much, but Emit responded with surprise and gave her a hard hug back. “Be safe.”
Cal called Maggie over. “We will.”
He and Emit did their man-hug thing and then Cal was tugging Bianca forward into a dark, cool tunnel.
Chapter Twenty-five
Like most teaching hospitals, UC South was a labyrinth of departments, hallways, and rooms. As a Level 1 trauma center, it also had a burn center, advanced stroke center, and cancer center. Outside, news vans and reporters hung around the ER entrance and main desk, waiting for updates on Senator Halston’s health.
Cal and Bianca had parked in Lot A and left Maggie in the truck. Avoiding anyone with a camera wasn’t easy, and asking for Senator Halston’s room number at the information desk wouldn’t work, so Bianca simply kept her head down and followed Cal.
He seemed to know where he was going. Bianca, being naturally curious, had to ask anyway. “Where are we going?”
He was busy keeping his face turned away from the cameras as he’d instructed her to do. They found a bank of elevators and he led the way into one and punched a button. “Internal medicine. From there, look for a throng of suits hanging around. That will be Halston’s entourage.”
Good plan. On the drive, they’d discussed how best to sneak into his room. Bianca would pose as one of his nurses. Cal would stay in the waiting room, pretending to be there for some other patient as he kept an eye on things and planned various exit strategies depending on how the situation went.
Bianca had already located the women’s locker room and lifted a nurse’s scrub jacket, complete with her ID tag pinned to the front lying on a bench. The nurse in question had been in the shower, singing away to Shakira, her shift apparently complete. Her jacket had Mickey Mouse ears printed all over it and Bianca hoped the gal didn’t notice it and ID were missing before Bianca had a chance to break into the senator’s room and get answers.
As the elevator stopped on the IM floor, Cal murmured, “Put that on and act like you don’t know me.”
The jacket was a little loose. She flipped the ID tag over in case anyone up here knew Charice Dolamar, RN. She was heavier than Bianca, but she was blond and wore glasses. Bianca hoped no one looked too closely if they did see the picture.
When the doors opened, she hung back, letting Cal get off ahead of her. They both avoided the nurse’s station and as Bianca continued to follow Cal around a corner, she saw him duck into a nearby waiting room. As he did so, he covertly pointed down the opposite hallway, and sure enough, there were security guards posted on each side of the last door at the end, and a host of men and women in suits talking on cell phones and typing on laptops.
Bianca set her shoulders and continued down the hall. “Cell phones are not allowed inside the hospital,” she said, as she breezed past the first woman talking on her phone. She pointed to all the people with phones growing out of their ears. “Please take your calls outside.”
One of the security guys stopped her as she reached for the door handle. Brightly colored warning signs about isolation, gloves and mask required, and oxygen in use hung on the doorframe. The guard was big and black and imposing. “ID, please.”
Bianca smiled and raised her badge. “Oh, sorry, guess it got turned around.”
Thank goodness the picture of Charice wasn’t the best. The guard eyed it, eyed her, looked a little suspicious.
Heart hammering, she smiled and pushed up her glasses. “I’ve lost twenty pounds in the last month. The seaweed and kale diet. Ever try it? You have to use Korean seaweed. Anything el
se isn’t as effective.”
His brows tweaked ever so slightly but he waved her through.
She slipped inside and carefully shut the door, leaning against it for a second as she drew a deep breath. Senator Halston wasn’t the only one needing oxygen at this point.
The room smelled of antiseptic. The oxygen tank droned loudly. On the far wall hung a white board with the date, the senator’s condition, and the name of his nurse and CNA.
Near the window, the senator lay in a hospital bed with his eyes closed. Bars of sunlight fell across the white blanket tucked around him. Next to his head, monitors beeped and an IV dripped a steady flow into his veins.
Even though she wasn’t a real nurse, donning plastic gloves and a face mask seemed prudent. The mask served to hide her features if another nurse, doctor, or member of Halston’s troupe entered while she was talking to him. Plus, although Halston had ingested the poison, it didn’t take much for a sick man to puke on you, and being exposed to cyanide wasn’t on her bucket list.
Guilt over bothering him at a time like this rose up inside her. The poor man was pale and looked like he’d aged ten years since she’d last seen him. His normally stylish gray hair was sticking out in clumps, his jaw slack, his breathing, even with the oxygen, sounded congested and heavy.
But this might be the only chance she got. She had to know who he’d leaked the info to and why it was costing her and Cal their jobs…and possibly their lives.
Leaning over the bed, she shook his arm lightly and got close to his ear. She couldn’t yell over the oxygen pump and let anyone outside the door hear her. “Senator? It’s Bianca Marx. From Command and Control. Can you hear me?”
He didn’t open his eyes, but his mouth moved. Only a gurgling sound came out.
She took out her phone and turned on the video. If he did say anything, she wanted it recorded. “Senator, I believe you were poisoned. I’m trying to figure out who did it, but I need you to answer a few questions for me. I know you feel awful, but can you open your eyes for me?”