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Confusion evaporated, and laughter exploded from her. The sound was pure gold. God, it made him happy to see, but even more that he’d been the one to blast away the worry. Fuck, he was in deep.
“I’ve spoken to my senior officer.” The kid had returned to the window.
Jo covered her mouth and looked away as she got herself back under control.
The kid hooked one thumb under his belt as if he was the CEO of the whole damn business. “Obviously, in matters of safety, we will offer full compliance to the appropriate authorities.” Behind him, the gates juddered and inched open. “Drive straight through. Reception is the large building on your right. Pettersen will meet you there and ensure you get everything you need.”
“Thank you. Have a good day.” Griff wound up his window as the gate swung wide open. He popped the van into Drive and drove straight through.
Game on.
24
This is for you, Luke.
Jo gripped her notepad as if it was a lifebelt. Griff drove down the curve of the driveway to where it split. A brand-new sign instructed they turn left down to the submarine dock or right to the brutalist-looking main office block and reception area. Her heart was in her throat, but the almost paralyzing anxiety gripping her minutes ago had dissipated.
Griff hung a left.
“Griff. Reception is right.” She pointed over her shoulder as they zoomed past the reception entrance.
Sunlight highlighted a few gray hairs on the scruff on his cheek. “I know.”
“So?”
“Patience.”
The road descended steeply as they approached the dock. A black SUV with smoke-tinted side windows drove past them, making her breath catch, but the driver didn’t give them a second glance. If they’d come this far, they must have an official reason to be here. The cliffs loomed above them, birds circling over the sprawl of bare concrete structures, weathered and stained from the sea air.
Griff brought them to a halt in a small parking lot edged on one side by open water. On the other side, what looked like makeshift barracks and storehouses constructed from stacked shipping containers were crammed into the space. The containers were rusty and dented, their corrugated metal doors secured with heavy padlocks. Behind the containers rose a monolithic concrete tower, a high-tech nerve center buried in the cliff itself. Its lower levels were partly embedded in the cliff face, the upper cluttered with radar and thick power cables.
Griff unclipped his seatbelt and turned to face her, one arm framing the steering wheel. “That’s our way in.” He jerked his head toward the bleak-looking tower. “We go to the main reception. They won’t tell us jack shit no matter how many official IDs we wave at them. Come on.”
He exited the car and hurried to the trunk, which he opened briefly before opening her door with a yank. “Quick.”
Jo did as she was told, falling into step beside him as he jogged toward the base of the tower, compact backpack on his shoulders. Her knees shook with the risk they were taking.
The entrance door was a slab of steel recessed in the concrete structure, with hinges as thick as Jo’s arm. A yellow warning stripe ran horizontally across the center, and in the wall to the right of the door was a keypad and a small black pad she assumed was a scanner of some kind.
“Griff. There isn’t even a handle.”
“Minor detail.” He took a knee beside her, unfolded a small laptop at her feet and then removed the plastic cover on the keypad with a slim screwdriver. With deft fingers he attached a small device to the keypad wiring. “It’s a bridge,” he explained. “Between us and the system.”
“Where did you learn to do that?”
“Military.” He didn’t look up as he adjusted the wiring connections.
Jo crouched down beside him, partly to make herself less visible. “I read your bio on the Guardsmen website. You were in Special Forces.”
He paused. “Hmm.” He looked at her then.
“Were you young when you joined?”
“So many questions.” He stripped plastic, exposing copper wiring.
“It’s the journalist in me. Also, asking questions stops me from freaking out about what we’re doing right now.”
He shook his head but smiled. “My dad was a violent bastard, and the military was the fastest way out.”
