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“Figured it wouldn’t be so easy,” Jason commiserated. “My take? The Consortium’s got the disk. Or their upper echelon group does. I bet they put out the word about the virus missing because the program’s existence isn’t secret anymore. Admitting it’s disappeared would be a good way to hide it.”
“No kidding,” Bridger agreed, his mind already racing with the implications. As they screeched around another corner, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were caught in an elaborate game of cat and mouse—and right now, they were definitely the mice.
Jason paused, his breath steady on the other end of the line. “You still trust Lassiter?”
“For now,” Bridger admitted, the words leaving a metallic taste in his mouth. “He’s been a straightshooter so far. And if he wanted the team dead, well?—”
“Would have already happened,” Jason cut in.
“Exactly.”
A long pause. “You know he’s Tanner, right?”
Bridger took a deep breath, the scent of leather and gun oil filling his nostrils. He wasn’t going to bring up that particular topic until he had Jason in front of him for real.
Jason’s breath grew louder. “Please tell me this isn’t new news.”
“Nope. He told us himself. Which brings me to a question. You’re the expert on this crowd. Cody says Tanner’s a myth he and Paige’s father created as a straw man. A way to hide their undercover activities. You think that’s legit?”
Jason’s laugh crackled through the line. “Not only legit, but brilliant. That could totally work. No one’s ever seen Tanner. There’ve been rumors that Tanner is more than one operative. Maybe even a super-dark group of assassins.”
“That fits with what he told us.” Hope bloomed in Bridger’s chest. “Jason, stop running. Join us.”
“Soon, bro. I’ve got one last piece to track down and I’ll be home.”
The words ‘Jane’s pregnant’ danced on the tip of Bridger’s tongue. But he swallowed them back, Jane’s trusting smile flashing in his mind. Instead, he cleared his throat. “We’ve been working on the Mustang ...” The vintage P-51 was supposed to be Jason’s retirement project. A labor of love, restoring the aircraft he’d learned to fly in.
Only after BlackOut Squadron got squashed, Jason had gone out hunting the Consortium instead. Bridger and Mason had started working on the old plane months ago.
“She’s getting close to test-flight status. You’re gonna want to be home to take the stick.” Even to his own ears, it sounded lame. He winced, grateful Jason couldn’t see his face.
“Nice!” The joy in Jason’s voice buoyed him. “Here’s hoping, dude.”
The SUV jerked to a stop, nearly sending Bridger into the dashboard. Fenn’s voice cut through his thoughts. “We’re here.”
“Gotta go,” Bridger told Jason, ending the call. He switched to the team’s frequency. “We’ve arrived on scene. Heading out to scout the area.”
“Hang on,” Paige’s voice crackled over the comlink, tension evident in every syllable. “I’ve got active chatter on the DC police band.” A despairing noise followed. “There’s a report of a dead body at the target location.”
Bridger’s stomach dropped. Before he could respond, Mason’s grim voice added, “We’ve got one on our end, too. Definitely our target and definitely DOA.”
Fenn thunked his head on the steering wheel, his next words summing up their collective frustration perfectly.
“Dude. This is not our day.”
30
Dead.All three of the workers he and Paige had herded out of that lab were dead. So was their lead on the virus drive.
Cody hunched over the sleek desktop in the embassy’s safe room, his fingers assaulting the keyboard in a frantic dance. Each keystroke echoed his desperate attempt to outpace the encroaching dread. The acrid taste of failure coated his tongue, bitter and relentless.
His jaw clenched as he fought against the rising tide of frustration. “No way to get into the other victims’ residences now,” he growled over comms, his words barely rising above the quiet hum of the embassy’s state-of-the-art equipment. The harsh glow of multiple monitors cast eerie shadows across his face, deepening the lines of worry etched there. “The Consortium will make sure the authorities are on scene any second.”
Paige and Graham exchanged worried glances behind him, the tension palpable in the confined space. Cody’s eyes darted across the screens, searching for any glimmer of hope among the sea of dead ends. But with each fruitless search, the reality of their situation sank in deeper, like a stone dropping into still water, sending ripples of unease through the team.
The embassy’s reinforced walls, once a comfort, now felt suffocating. The knowledge that they were running out of time and options pressed down on them, as oppressive as the recycled air in their secure hideout.
Bridger’s voice crackled over the comlink, tension evident in every syllable. “Jason had some thoughts about the virus drive. Everyone regroup at the Embassy.”
