“You know at least one,” Big Earv said. “How many other six-foot-four men do you know?”
“I bet Hawk wouldn’t be afraid of this.”
Big Earv stroked his chin. “Hawk is certifiable. That dude is about the craziest agent I’ve ever crossed paths with. So, using him as your gold standard for all six-foot-four men is like saying every painter who isn’t as good as Da Vinci isn’t a real painter.”
“Or like saying that any saxophonist that isn’t as good as John Coltrane isn’t a real sax player?” she asked as she offered a thin smile.
“Now you’re talking my language,” Big Earv said. “If you can create a jazz simile, I know you’re getting my point.”
“My uncle loved John Coltrane. Did he ever show you his Coltrane Quartet vinyls?”
“If you ever want to entice me to do something for you, get me one of those records,” Big Earv said. “I’d follow Hawk through a minefield in a swamp of lava for Coltrane vinyls.”
She drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Well, it looks like I know what I have to do to get you to help me figure out who our ghost is.”
Big Earv groaned. “Wait a minute. There are still some stipulations to that statement.”
“No, you said—and I quote—I’d follow Hawk through a minefield in a swamp of lava for Coltrane vinyls.”
He grinned sheepishly. “Well, that was just hyperbole. Besides, I never said I’d chase a ghost for that.”
“This isn’t a ghost, Big Earv. This is modern technology, the kind that Dr. Z has been tinkering with in his workshop. I want to know who’s using it and who they’re spying for.”
Big Earv tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “This goes against my better judgment.”
“You always were my favorite agent,” Morgan said as she stood and then slapped him on the shoulder.
“Any ideas on how to flush him out?” he asked.
“You’ll think of something.”
Morgan closed the door behind her as she exited the room, leaving Big Earv alone with his thoughts. He sat down and replayed the video once more before jumping up out of his seat and backing away from the screen.
“That’s not right,” he said aloud, pointing at the monitor. “That’s just not right.”
* * *
BIG EARV TAPPED HIS pen on his desk and he contemplated how he could out the mole. There was plenty of intel he could gin up, but would that be what the mole was interested in? That’s the question he needed to answer, all while creating a viable way to do it.
Hawk entered Big Earv’s office and plopped down on the chair next to his desk. He closed the folder quickly and slid it underneath his keyboard.
“Did you come down here to brag about your latest fake award?” Big Earv asked, a grin spreading across his lips.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous,” Hawk said.
“Me? Jealous?” Big Earv said, nodding toward the wall behind him. “Those up there are real. In case you’ve forgotten, I actually did save the president’s life. You were there.”
“And I helped,” Hawk said. “I’d have one of those too if I officially existed.”
“You always have an excuse, don’t you?”
Hawk crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, stretching out his feet. “An excuse for what? When the thousands of innocent lives are at stake, you can’t think about how to explain your failure. Saving the world is a lot different than protecting one man.”
Big Earv slipped his pen into his desk and then looked sharply at Hawk. “Not when the whole world is trying to kill him.”
“Touché,” Hawk said. “So, what are you hiding from me?”
“Why would I tell you what I’m hiding?”
“Because you need my help. I can see it in your eyes.”
“What you’re seeing is fear,” Big Earv said. “I opened my big fat mouth and Director May decided not to let me off the hook.”
“What is it?”
Big Earv sighed. “Well, I can tell you this because I know it’s not you. You and Alex weren’t even in Los Angeles on the day in question.”
“Was there a cyber breach on our servers?” Hawk asked.
“Not that I’m aware of, but I do have this creepy video to show you.”
“If this is one of those where it’s all normal and serene before some crazy guy jumps out and shouts at you, it won’t work on me. I can smell those coming a mile away.”
“Come here,” Big Earv said. “This one ought to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, even for someone with as much ice water in his veins as you.”
“What am I looking for?” Hawk asks as Big Earv played the footage.
“You’ll know it when you see it.”
After a few seconds, Hawk squinted at the screen. “Is this some kind of prank?”
“Nope.”
“Camera trick?”
“Nuh-uh. It’s legit.”
“Then how the hell did that note just appear on Director May’s car?”
“That’s what I’m supposed to find out,” Big Earv said. “Or more specifically, she wants me to find out who’s behind this.”
Seconds later, Big Earv’s door flung open and Mia strolled in.
“You guys having a party without me?” she asked before leaning over Hawk’s shoulder and staring at Big Earv’s monitor.
“Does anyone knock anymore?” Big Earv asked with a growl. “I swear, for an agency that’s supposed to traffic in secrets, you guys are the worst.”
He shut the door and turned off his computer.
“You gotta tell her now,” Hawk said.
“What is it?” Mia asked. “Do you need me to help you with an op? I’d love to go out in the field again, if possible.”
“The Director won’t like that,” Hawk said.
“I don’t care,” Big Earv said. “She put me in charge, so I’m gonna run this however I see fit.”
“So does that mean I’m in?” she asked.
“You better ask what you’re getting into first,” Hawk said.
“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “As long as it doesn’t involve guns.”
Big Earv shrugged. “I hope not. But as a matter of fact, I’d love your help, Mia.”
Hawk stood and scratched the back of his head. “Better you than me.”
“Now, Hawk, if you’ll excuse us,” Big Earv said, “we’ve got an op to plan.”
As Hawk walked down the hall, his phone buzzed with a call from Morgan.
“Ready to start working on that new plan of action?” he asked.
“Yeah, but not here,” Morgan said. “I want to talk about this offsite.”
“What’s this about?” he asked.
“Your friend Mallory at the CIA found something intriguing,” Morgan said. “It’s about the Border Patrol agent who arrested Diana Lorado. I think you’re going to find it very disturbing—and maybe the link we’re looking for to tell us who’s behind all this.”
“Sounds promising.”
“Meet me in my office in a half-hour,” she said. “We’re going to the Bullseye Shooting Range.”
CHAPTER 23
Yakima, Washington
REAPER PULLED OFF the two-lane highway and followed the signs to Wind River Farms. The washboard dirt road rattled everything in his truck as it crept toward the front entrance. A large gate stood open and several alpacas chewed grass as they stared at their visitor.
Reaper got out and drew in a deep breath.
Smells better than a herd of cows.
He surveyed the rest of the property, which was mostly fenced off pastures aside from a couple of barns. As Reaper strode toward the small office building, a man ambled through the front door and raised his hand in the air.
“Hello, sir,” the man said before offering his hand. “Bob Lovelace.”
“Ronald Kilgore,” Reaper said. “Are you the owner of this fine farm?”
Lovelace nodded. “It’
s been in my family for four generations.”
“And you’ve always had alpacas?”
The man grunted and chuckled. “My great grandfather would roll over in his grave if he knew we weren’t growing apples on this land. We transitioned to raising alpacas about five years ago. There’s a growing market for their wool. And it’s a helluva lot less stressful than trying to grow crops.”
“I can only imagine.”
“Now, I doubt you came all this way to hear a small-time alpaca rancher complain about the challenges of farming in the twenty-first century. So, how can I help you?”
Reaper kicked at some rocks on the ground, dislodging them from the soil. “I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of Travis Taylor.”
Lovelace put his hands on his hips and squinted as he looked at Reaper. “What’s the nature of your business, Mr. Kilgore?”
“It’s somewhat of a private matter, but a legal one,” Reaper said.
“A private legal matter, huh? Is he in some kind of trouble?”
“Like I said, it’s private, so I’d rather not say,” Reaper said, fully aware of how he was frustrating the rancher.
“Well, I’d rather not say where he is then,” Lovelace said. “People who come and work on ranches like ours don’t always want to be found.”
“Are you suggesting that you harbor fugitives out here? Because I could make a quick call to one of my friends at the bureau and have them come out and—”
“No, no, no,” Lovelace said. “We run background checks on everyone who applies to work at Wind River. What I’m trying to say is that when I hire someone and they ask me to keep their whereabouts confidential, it’s usually because trouble is looking for them and they’d rather avoid it.”
Reaper nodded. “Fair enough. Now, is there a reason you think trouble would be looking for Travis Taylor?”
“Not based off his work ethic and his temperament. Always showed up on time and was thorough. I’d welcome him back any time.”
“You know where I can find him?”
“Not a clue. We pay our employees through direct deposit, so there wasn’t any need for a forwarding address. Not that he would’ve given me one anyway.”
Reaper reached into his jacket pocket and handed a card to Lovelace. “On the off chance that you do happen to hear from him, let him know that he’s got a small fortune of an inheritance waiting for him. All I need to do is get him to sign off so we can execute the will.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath, mister,” Lovelace said as he took the card. “But if I do hear from him, I’ll pass along that private message.”
Lovelace winked at Reaper.
“Sorry, Mr. Lovelace, but I have to be careful about divulging that information up front. I trust that you’ll keep that between us—and Mr. Taylor, if you happen to hear from him again.
“Of course,” Lovelace said. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Reaper trudged back to his vehicle and climbed inside. As he pushed the button to ignite the engine, his phone buzzed with a call from Kayla. He declined the call, sending it straight to voicemail.
Not in the mood today, Kayla.
He left Wind River Ranch, wondering where to go next without a clue of how to find the nomadic Travis Taylor.
CHAPTER 24
Los Angeles
HAWK AND ALEX RODE with Morgan out to Bullseye Shooting Range in the hills just beyond the city. With the top down on Morgan’s red BMW M8 convertible, she smiled as they zipped down the interstate. She played a combination of 90s grunge rock and some modern country. Hawk thought it was an interesting combination, but he’d learned soon after meeting Morgan that she was a free spirit who couldn’t be pigeon-holed.
Due to the wind during the drive, the conversation was relatively non-existent. But that changed after parking in the Bullseye lot.
“So, you want to tell us why we came all the way out here?” Alex said as they headed toward the entrance.
“I’m finding the office isn’t the best place to discuss certain topics,” Morgan said.
“Who do you suspect as the mole?” Hawk asked.
Morgan stopped and eyed Hawk. “That’s quite the leap from my response.”
“I work in intelligence,” he said. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t put two and two together?”
“I work in intelligence, too, but I hardly have a clue what’s happening,” she said. “All I know is that there is someone in the Magnum office who is divulging our secrets—and I’m pissed about it.”
“It’s the nature of the business,” Hawk said. “Didn’t your uncle warn you about such things?”
“He warned me about a lot of things, including adding you to the team,” she said.
Alex laughed.
“You think that’s funny?” Hawk asked as he turned toward his wife.
“Well, yeah. Don’t you?”
“Look, I didn’t mean to start anything,” Morgan said. “I’m just being honest. Uncle J.D. was a character, but we don’t necessarily agree on everything. His assessments are to be taken under advisement, but they aren’t the gospel truth.”
Hawk cocked his head and looked at Alex. “See?”
“I’ve worked with you a long time, honey,” Alex said. “I would issue a warning too.”
Hawk shrugged. “Regardless, you can’t argue with the results.”
Alex nodded. “They’re marginally good.”
“Now you’re just trying to start a fight.”
She smiled. “I’m about to light you up on the range.”
“You wish,” Hawk said.
“Stop quibbling,” Morgan said. “Neither one of you are going to come close to my shooting.”
“I like this energy,” Hawk said. “This ought to be good.”
“Only if you like losing,” Alex said. “Remind me again how many times I’ve had to bail you out?”
“There was that time in Prague,” Hawk said, furrowing his brow. “But that’s the only time that comes to mind.”
“Think a little harder,” Alex said. “Your memory needs jogging.”
Morgan chuckled. “You’ll forget about all that in just a few minutes. Instead, you’ll be referring to the time I made you both look silly.”
“Bring it on,” Alex said.
Hawk opened the door and ushered the ladies inside first.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Morgan said, glancing at Hawk.
“I let my gun do all the talking,” he said with a sneer.
“So, that’s why I can’t hear it,” Morgan said.
“Both of you are going down,” Hawk said.
Alex smiled. “We’ll see about that.”
After paying for the session, Morgan led them down a long corridor to their shooting gallery.
“So, what’s this really all about?” Hawk asked.
“I didn’t want to be anywhere near the office when I told you this,” Morgan began. “As you probably know based on your conversation with Big Earv, we’re having some persistent issues with a mole. And I want to flush him out.”
“That’s understandable,” Alex said. “Any idea who it might be?”
Morgan shook her head as she loaded her weapon. After putting on a pair of muffs and safety glasses, she raised her weapon and fired several rounds at the target at the far wall.
“So, we’re grasping at straws?” Hawk asked.
“For the moment,” Morgan said as she pressed a button, bringing the target closer to her. All the shots were center mass, except for one head shot.
“Impressive,” Hawk said.
“Think either of you can do better?” Morgan asked.
“What’s the wager?” Alex asked.
Morgan shrugged. “Front row tickets to tonight’s Dodgers’ game?”
“Sounds good to me,” Alex said. She raised her weapon and hit her target with every shot.
“You shouldn’t have poked the bear,” Hawk said as Alex’s target whirred toward them.
The trio looked at Alex’s target, littered with shots.
“That guy didn’t stand a chance,” Alex said. “Honey, it’s your move.”
Hawk smiled as he swapped out the target with a fresh one and sent it out to the back of the gallery.
“So, how are we going to handle this?” Hawk asked.
“The leak or the bigger issue we’re facing?” Morgan asked.
Hawk scowled and lowered his weapon. “What’s bigger than the leak at the moment?”
“There’s a new development in the case,” she said.
Hawk sighed and looked skyward. “Are you just trying to distract me?”
“No, everything I’m telling you is based on cold hard facts,” Morgan said. “I wish it wasn’t that way, but it is.”
“So, what’s the situation?” he asked.
Morgan put her hands on her hips. “This new information we’ve received is very strange.”
“Strange how?” Hawk asked.
“We learned yesterday that there was a Special Forces group in Afghanistan that only returned three soldiers from battle,” Morgan said. “In the past few weeks, two of them were murdered under mysterious circumstances.”
“How mysterious?”
“One man, Archie Langston, was found drowned in a lake in Washington,” Morgan said. “And the other one, Chester Guidry, was shot in North Dakota in a strange turn of events.”
“And you think all of these men were targeted?” Alex asked.
“That’s the working hypothesis at the moment,” Morgan said.
“So, where’s the other man?” Hawk asked.
“Funny that you should ask,” Morgan said. “I just so happen to have that information for you.”
Hawk cocked his head to one side. “And?”
“His name is Travis Taylor and he’s driving cattle in Montana at the moment.”
“Travis Taylor? That name doesn’t mean anything to me,” Hawk said.
“I didn’t think it would, but there’s more to it.”
“I hope so,” he said. “I’m trying to see the connection between this case and ours.”
“You know that Border Patrol Agent you wanted to talk to?” Morgan asked.
“Diego Torres? The one who arrested Diana Lorado?” Hawk asked.
“That’s the one,” she said.
The Reaper (The Phoenix Chronicles Book 2) Page 12