Part 2 (2/2)
Vince looked at the two pale Congress members, then back at the agent. ”I'm a.s.suming you don't mean trouble with picket lines or pies in the face.”
Both Congress members chuckled. The Fed, however, could have been one of the unflinching guards outside of Buckingham Palace.
Wilson pivoted on a clunky heel. ”You're correct. This goes beyond expected concerns about protestors. We increased our wiretaps and cell phone monitoring in the area. During the course of one of those conversations, a local gang member's name was mentioned in connection with a well-known terrorist cell.”
Whoa. Vince straightened in his seat. They'd gone from disruptions during a televised event to talk of terrorism. Joke time was officially over.
”We secured a search warrant for the g.a.n.g.b.a.n.ger's apartment-or rather his parents' apartment. We found CDs for terrorist recruitment and training. We also found manuals for creating bombs packed with ball bearings and instructions for building improvised explosive devices out of remote control toys.” She clicked through a series of photos from inside the apartment, zeroing in on the confiscated items. ”We also discovered a map of the planned driving route to Case Western and a floor plan of the building where the hearing will take place.”
A chill settled in his gut, and yet he could see in her eyes the agent wasn't anywhere near done with her surprises.
”We also found copies of the correspondence sent requesting this information, written on stationery from the Cleveland Community Center and signed by Shay Ba.s.sett.”
Shay.
Just her name slammed him back in his seat, much less the possibility that she could be in the middle of some terrorist plot. He'd spent so many years trying not to think of Shay Ba.s.sett, and now thoughts of her roared in to fill the void.
Wilson clicked to the next image, a photo of Shay administering shots in an immunization line.
A brunette, lean, earthy beauty.
He could have been in a time warp.
She'd been trouble on smokin' hot legs from the first time she'd tried to seduce him just to p.i.s.s off her old man. Trouble or not, then or now, surely she couldn't be a knowing partic.i.p.ant in anything this appalling.
Wilson thumbed the remote, a split screen displaying a photo of a tattooed teen alongside the picture of Shay. ”This is the young man we're investigating. We questioned him but didn't hold him. We're going to observe him-and Shay-instead. It's more critical to learn who's orchestrating this.”
Vince tore his eyes off Shay. ”How do I come into play, Agent Wilson?”
”Don Ba.s.sett recommended you.”
And for that matter, what was Don doing here?
Don nudged aside his full cup of coffee. ”I work for the agency now.” The CIA. Holy c.r.a.p. ”Anything I do here is unofficial, since this is FBI territory. I also have an obvious conflict of interest because of Shay, but I had been keeping an ear to the ground on the presecurity because of her involvement. When this came up, I immediately thought of your, uh, skill set.”
”My skill set? And what would you mean by that?” All signs indicated they already knew, but old habits died hard. Vince rolled out the pat answer he used with his mama, dates, and curious biker mechanics. ”I just work in a military test unit.”
Without identification patches. Developing military equipment no one knew about. Answerable only to the air force chief of staff.
Don smiled. ”Exactly how I would have answered the question. As I said, your skill set could be valuable, particularly with the surveillance, to find out how widespread this problem may be. I presented the proposal to Special Agent Wilson, and she agreed. We contacted the air force, and here you are.”
Vince stared at his former mentor with a whole new perspective. Don wasn't just sitting a desk job and stirring interest in CAP in his free time, as would have been his due right. The old guy had traded up.
Special Agent Wilson continued, ”The boy has gone missing, and it's our belief if he's been recruited, there could be more. You will stay here in Cleveland under the guise of helping fuel interest in forming a Civil Air Patrol unit. Share your success story of how being recruited into the volunteer group saved you from a life of crime as a teen. Since you and Ba.s.sett have a connection from your younger years, showing up here to help out his daughter shouldn't raise any red flags.”
Don smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. ”We've even pulled strings with the Joint Chiefs of Staff so your surveillance will blend into standard testing expenses. Beyond helping us here, you'll actually be able to write this off as a field test and move a project into the war arena faster. A fine economical blending of government resources, if I do say so myself.”
Special Agent Wilson tapped her thumbnail against the slide changer in her fist. ”It's a lot to absorb, but rest a.s.sured, we're taking care of details. We're in contact with your squadron commander. In fact, Lieutenant Colonel Scanlon is on standby waiting for your call after this meeting so you can be rea.s.sured that we're on the up-and-up. He seems to have the utmost confidence in your capabilities.”
No small praise, that. Vince s.h.i.+fted in his chair uncomfortably.
”You're cleared for any form of surveillance. Your choice.”
”I'll need a support team-”
”Of course, you'll have your pick of members from your squadron,” she responded without hesitation. ”We'll leave the specifics of that up to you. Your commander will work out of D.C., coordinating any issues with Congress. Our Congress members here are flying back to D.C., but they're leaving behind their aides to prepare for the event. However, the aides don't have the clearance to know about our mission. Are there any questions so far?”
Like, was there someone else to do this, someone who wouldn't send Shay running and screaming for the hills? But he owed Don his life. Time to repay the debt. ”No questions.”
Wilson set down the slide changer. ”I hope I don't need to impress upon you what chaos a hit on Congress could cause. We cannot allow another terrorist attack on our own soil.”
She pinned him with a steely gaze. Was she wondering if he would cut Shay slack because of his loyalty to Don? Did Don think bringing him in would give an edge of leniency if it turned out Shay was involved?
Good G.o.d, there were freaking land mines all over everywhere in this mission, beyond just literal ones some terrorist might plant. Not that he could turn his back on Don and all he'd learned from the man about honor.
Even if that meant turning Don's daughter over to the Feds.
The boy had never called back.
Not that night or the next.
Shay had stayed well past the clinic's closing hours, willing the phone to ring. No one had called, a mixed blessing, since at least it meant n.o.body else was in crisis.
She glanced at her cherry red watch her mother had given her as a birthday gift to add to her watch and bracelet collection. The psychology grad student who'd volunteered to pull the eleven o'clock night s.h.i.+ft was a half hour late, and she'd had zero luck in reaching him. She would leave him a note and forward all calls to her cell. Plenty of nights pa.s.sed with no phone-ins, so she should still be able to sleep.
She eyed the receiver one last time before hitching her small Vera Bradley backpack over one shoulder and turning off the window fan puffing in an unusually cool breeze for once.
As she pulled her lab coat off the coat tree, the back door creaked open. Finally. The grad student. She would even have time to brief Geoff about the caller before she fell asleep on her feet.
She started into the hall. And stopped short. A hooded figure slid from the corridor toward the main clinic. Tall, frighteningly so, but with an awkward thinness of either a teen or a junkie.
Shay stumbled, her chest tightening. If she could just make it back into her office before he- Her Nike thudded against the trash can. s.h.i.+t. s.h.i.+t. s.h.i.+t! She stooped to grab it before it clattered to the ground.
The hooded boy spun to face her, his face covered with a greasy bandanna. ”Stop, b.i.t.c.h, or I'll slice off your face.”
He swished a machete through the air.
She held up her hands and patted lightly in a universal calm-down gesture even as the glinting edge made her break out in a cold sweat.
A member of the Apocalypse gang.
She knew from the weapon.
G.o.d, how she wished he'd been carrying anything other than a blade. Even a dull b.u.t.ter knife freaked her out to this day with a phobia so strong she avoided them at the dinner table.
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